


A Terrible Mess

by NightInGaleMinds



Series: Zim, Dib and the Curse of the Grisl Agreement [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Awkward Dates, Boyfrenemies, Dark Comedy, Dib - Freeform, Dr. Membrane, Enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fights, Fights for Days, First Dates, Frenemies, Friendship/Love, Gir - Freeform, Hate, Hilarious Madness, Irken, Love/Hate, M/M, Madness, Mayhem, Nemesis Dates, Rivalry, Romantic Comedy, Stupidity, This Is STUPID, Weirdness, World Domination vs Date Night, ZADE, ZADF, ZaDr, Zim - Freeform, Zim and Dib, gaz - Freeform, invader zim - Freeform, kinda gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-02-08 05:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12857886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightInGaleMinds/pseuds/NightInGaleMinds
Summary: Summary: Dib’s week is turned upside down when ZIM gets mixed up in Membrane political affairs! Now only three things are certain: there’s a giant Cthulu-Moth-Monster roaming the streets, the whole world thinks ZIM is his boyfriend and everything has turned into a terrible mess!Mostly comedy and ho yay situations full of hatred            Mild Zadr





	1. The Mushening

_"Old Timey Love Mush."_

Dib rolled his eyes at the title, his pencil moving across the paper with the speed and precision only a young hero of earth/paranormal investigator could manage.

Right now, he was focused, determined, and if anything, a little bit exasperated. Zim was out there making trouble! He didn't have time for any of this. And this book report was terrible!

"It's the same cliché love story! Boy meets girl and they fall in love! There isn't even any substance! It's just… _bad!_ " he informed his bedroom. "I wonder if _Zim_ did his homework! Trick question! I know he didn't! He just has his computer do everything for him. He's too busy being a horrible alien menace!"

He continued his scribbling.

And then he paused. His eyes flitted to a picture frame across his desk.

"Terrible… cliché love stories…. that's how it's supposed to be, right?"

He shook the thought off, flipping the frame and he snapped the book shut.

"Doesn't matter! It's not like I've ever been interested in that sort of thing anyway! A paranormal investigator doesn't have time for… _those_ … kind of distractions! Especially when his mind is preoccupied with something else!"

Dib leapt up from his seat, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and he left the room. His computer light stayed on in his haste, bathing over old posters of Mysterious Mysteries… and a single wall dedicated to pictures of Zim.

~oOo~

**"I AM BREAKFAST-TRON: MIND READING BREAKFAST ROBOT OF THE FUTURE! PREPARE YOUR LIVER FOR IMMINENT BACON!"**

Gaz folded her arms, waiting as their dad's newest breakfast robot rumbled and wheezed out a disturbingly greasy pile of bacon in front of her that more-or-less resembled a pile of entrails.

Dib cringed at the sight as he passed, rounding the floating TV to locate a less horrifying cereal from the cupboards, but the abrupt volume of Gaz's program soon captured their attentions.

 _~"And now: Useless Top 10 list of celebrity children you don't care about!"_ the anchor brayed. _"On this segment of rich and single—"~_

A small, foreboding horror plummeted to Dib's guts. "Please don't," he muttered.

~"All eyes are on Dib! Son of the famous and beloved Professor Membrane, and heir to the vast Membrane Empire. Word has it: big business moves are on the horizon for the corporation and he's been put up to the plate!"~

Dib groaned.

"Shh," Gaz hissed.

_~"The small, off-putting youth, now on the cusp of adulthood, is being sent overseas to 'smooth over relations' with their competitors."~_

The TV announcer waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Dib grimaced. "Why are they even broadcasting this?! They couldn't find any other story to cover the borlax thing?"

"Shh!"

_~"Well, I personally wouldn't touch him with a twelve foot pole. That kid is CUH-RAZY."~_

_~"He does have crazy eyes, Tom,"_ the co-anchor agreed. _"In other news, there is absolutely no borlax in the water supply and you should all just DRINK IT!"~_

Dib turned off the TV. "This is ridiculous! Zim's up to something and it's up to me to stop it! He's created some kind of… fusion thingy! He's been fusing random… things together! I've got to go."

He turned out to leave and nearly ran into his father's knees.

" _Dad!_ Can't Gaz inherit your corporation? She's smart and… hates science less…"

Gaz shrugged indifferently, her cheeks full of bacon.

"Son, you remember the deal that we made-"

"You mean the deal _you_ made."

"Son—" Dib ignored him and stormed past, shoulder checking his shins on his way out.

 **"PREPARE YOUR LIVER FOR SPURNED FREEDOM… SLASH… PANCAKES! HRRRGH!"** Breakfast-Tron attempted to deliver, but the order was too much. It burst into flames and exploded in a pile of wilted pancakes.

~oOo~

...

 _'Hmmmmmm, suspicious_.'

Zim cranked the dial back on his helmet, and hunched over the strange _water squirting machine_ the skool kept in its disgusting hallway.

For whatever the reason, the dirt children seemed to stick their faces in it and make icky slurping noises before going on with their day.

Whatever it was, its foundation was suspicious and not to be trusted.

Zim pushed the little faucet button, and when a stream of water shot back, he shrieked at the horror of it.

Which was where Dib found him this particular Monday morning:

In the hallway. Hunched over the drinking fountain. _Shrieking_.

Like an alien.

Dib quirked an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

" _HA!_ Like you could _possibly_ imagine my ingenious—!" Zim froze at the voice and spun on his heel, folding his helmet into his PAK. "DIB! I see you've returned. What took you?"

Dib opened his mouth.

"Never mind, I don't care," he canned. "Just so you know, _Pig_ , my amaazing plan goes off tonight and you will be helpless to stop it! I've covered all the bases, left no angle unturned. You've gone soft, Dib! _Soft like **smushed, sick baby eggplants!**_ And now will RUE the day you…! Eh, actually, you'll… rue everything."

A pause ensued, followed by Zim's raucous maniacal laughter. **"HAAAAAA HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW!"**

Dib deadpanned.

He'd like to think he was desensitized to Zim being this loud and obnoxious in the morning, but as usual, Zim outdid himself.

"So where were you anyway?" Zim asked, now genuinely curious.

"…I told you my dad was sending me to a boarding school for a few weeks."

Zim quirked an eye in confusion, imagining Dib in some primitive facility that showed him what wooden boards are.

"That's completely _stoo-pid!_ " he snapped. "And not a sufficient excuse as to why you were gone so long!"  
He would never admit it, but he had started to grow listless. It was unspoken enemy code that after ten days, if one hadn't heard from the other, violent, life-ruining intervention would take place. (assuming the earth wasn't properly enslaved, and both were alive, of course.)  
Zim did _not_ like caring about Dib more than he absolutely had to, but his disappearance was suspicious, and had irritatingly started to push his attention.

"Boarding schools are schools you live at, Zim." Dib explained, shuffling through his books. "My dad sent me to the _Institute of Real Science_ overseas. It's a prestigious, all-boy's school for snobby rich kids. He's been trying to get me to go there for years. He thought it would be a good idea if I tried it for a few weeks before I _'decided to live there permanently.'_ "

If there was any more sarcasm in his voice, he probably would have choked on it. Though it was a bit of a foreign language to the little green menace in question.

"A real science-y school? All… boys?" he wondered. "And you live there? Instead of your house? You cannot leave?"

"That's what I said."

Zim thought it over and let out another cruel fit of laughter. "Well, good luck, Dib. Enjoy your sad little boy prison while I DESTROY MANKIND AND SQUISH YOUR DREAMS."

"You already squish my dreams," Dib said.

"Then I will squish them… SOME MORE!"

"You won't be able to for long, _Zim_! Not while I'm there!"

Dib lifted his chin in a haughty sneer, as though to make himself seem taller.

Not that he was, of course. Zim had sabotaged his height years ago, rendering them both the shortest kids in Hi skool. Still, it was the principle of the matter.

And that look of victory was enough to incense him.

"Zim will so!" he snapped.

"Will not!"

"Will _so_!"

"Will not!"

"Will **NOT!"**

"…What?" Dib's face scrunched.

"LIAR!" Zim leapt onto him, bowling Dib to the ground, erratic fists flailing and slapping, struggling against the other's strength.

Students traveling through the halls simply stepped over their fight as they passed, too used to the display.

Finally, Dib kicked him off, gathering his things from the floor.

"Zim _shall_ soil your dreams, worm! Mark my words! The soiling I will do shall be—"

"Can we wrap this up?" Dib interrupted. "We really need to get to class."

"Eh? Oh, yeah. Right."

Dib got up awkwardly. "You want to walk with me, or…?"

"Nah, I'll catch up in a minute."

Dib shrugged and went on to class, leaving Zim to stew in his inner tirade.

And, oh, did he stew.

" **Foolish** dirt beast thinks he can tell ME where to go?! Clearly, he underestimates my skills of detection and dream soiling. ZIM IS A MIGHTY SOILER! He thinks they are now, but I say they are not soiled _enough!_ ZIM IS SUPREEEME. The Ultra Lord Soiler of all Squishening! Especially when it concerns dreams of the Dib!"

"GET TO CLASS!" Someone yelled down the hall.

Zim glowered at the interruption.  
Oh, they would pay. They would _all_ pay!


	2. The Badness

Zim continued to collect data on this _School of Real Science_ as the classroom droned on.  
The Dib had been sighing all class period, miserable and listless.  
Perhaps no one else had noticed, but the pathetic noises were seriously testing the Irken's patience. He was a few sighs away from launching over and taping the boy's mouth to his forehead.  
_*Sighh*_  
Zim's eye twitched.  
If the child was so miserable why didn't he just defy his dad-unit? Launch him into space or whatever dirt children do when they wanted them recycled?  
_*Sighhhh*_  
Zim snatched his pencil up and angrily scribbled on a piece of paper, wadding it up and chucking it across the room into the boy's obnoxious head.  
Dib stared at the crumpled ball on his desk and glared over. He smoothed the page out, finding the simple message in Zim's scrawl:  
_[ Stop breEthing. It's annoying. –ZIM ]_  
Dib frowned and began to write his retort.  
_[ I can't just stop breathing, lizard. ]_ The message felt unfinished, so he added a crude drawing of Zim as a lizard getting stabbed by pitchforks, just for good measure.  
He was hardly surprised by the response when it had returned.  
Zim had scribbled out the pitchforks and fitted his head with a crown, stepping on a stick figure which he could only assume was him.  
But it was the adjoining message that intrigued him.  
_[ You should do not go to board skool. ]_  
It took him a second to decode his terrible grammar. Dib glanced over, but Zim had averted his gaze, rolling his pencil back and forth along the desk.  
Dib wrote his reply.  
_[ I told you it's not totally my decision. And why do you care anyway? Wouldn't it be easier to conquer the planet without me? ]_  
Zim met the message with an eyeroll and scribbled his answer, which Dib caught via shitty paper airplane to the ear.  
_[ FOOL. No time. Slave to ZIM. ]_  
Dib raised a brow and smirked wickedly as he thought of another angle to rile him.  
_[ Miss me? ]_  
Zim sputtered in his seat. The audacity of this child!  
He snatched his pencil, pressed with rage.  
_[ NO -_  
"ALRIGHT!" Ms. Bitters' bark was so loud, it nearly startled Zim out of his seat,  sending his pencil to jumping and skittering over the page. He hid it from sight.  
"It's time to pass up your reports on the horrible romance novel you were all assigned to read… even though in reality all ' _love_ ' really leads to is utter dismay and trying not to kill each other!"  
Dib retrieved his homework, passing it foreword.  
And Zim watched him.  
"Where's yours, _Zim_?" she sneered.  
"I… uh… left mine at home."  
Ms. Bitters growled. "The next time I hear that excuse I'm hanging you by your toes in the underground classroom!"  
"Yes ma'am."  
"Alright. Turn your horrible textbooks to—"  
Zim tuned her voice out once more, and after sending one last resenting glare to Dib, turned his spite back to his collective research on this 'board facility.'  
There would be time to insult him later.  
Interestingly, little information about the school actually existed besides cheery photos of revered science students, and of the structure itself. From what he could tell it was elite, high security, and built like a Vortian prison.  
But he couldn't continue his research for long. The lunch bell sounded and so he put it away and withdrew from his seat, high stepping towards the direction of their so-called "lunch."  
As Dib gathered his things, he saw their note page Zim left behind in his seat, and he picked it up, finding the word 'No' in scribbles.

  
~oOo~

Their cafeteria was gross, dingy and discolored, with old smells that could only have been collected over years of neglect. The children droned mindlessly on, stuck in their gossip and swill.

"-And it's not that I _care_ where Dib goes," Zim insisted. "In fact, part of me hopes they will suck his brains out. But… I dunno. Part of me wants to be the one to suck his brains out myself, ya know?"  
He had located a random child in the lunchroom to unleash his thoughts on. He didn't know who it was, as a rather large book hid its face, but that was why Zim had chosen it.  
After all, the ideal dirt monster was one he didn't have to look at.  
"Plus, how will he wallow in my victory then?!" he demanded. "Mm?! And all the SIGHING! _Ooo I'm Diiiib. I'm so sad, I must make wind noises all day~"_  
The reader's fingernails clasped angrily into the book cover, shaking, though Zim ignored it.  
"I suppose I'll just have to destroy the school. It'll take some time, but boards are evil anyways." Zim shook his head. "I swear, the things I do for hate."  
At that, the book slammed into the table.  
**"WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?!"** Gaz yelled. "GO... _Awayyyyy_."  
Zim's eyes widened in horror.  
He had sat next to the Dib-sister! 'Gus' or something!  
And she was so evil!  
Her fists shook with a dark sort of rage, as though each moment were loading his doom.  
It was then a school child flanked her side with its sacked lunch, setting a pudding cup down on the table beside her. And Gaz saw it from the corner of her eye.  
Pudding. _Chocolate poop_ pudding.  
As soon as the kid sat down, she shoved him to the floor, claiming its ownership for herself.  
And just like that, life was restored, her rage forgotten.  
She didn't even seem bothered by Zim anymore. In fact, she humored his previous conversation.  
"I'd be less worried about the school and more worried about his fiancée."  
Zim raised an eye ridge at that. "Fia what now?"  
"GAZ!" Dib yelled just as he arrived, lunch in hand, glaring at her to keep her mouth shut.  
"What?" she grunted. "Shouldn't your boyfriend know?"  
"Know _what_?" Zim demanded, bypassing the 'friendship' slur.  
"He's not my boyfriend! I can't believe you're even saying that! And why would I tell Zim, huh? It's none of his business!"  
" _What_ isn't any of my business?" Zim glared.  
"Nothing!"  
"Dib's getting married to a prudish rich girl," Gaz answered.  
"Gaz!"  
"Married?"  
Dib groaned, dropping his head to the table.  
"It's not even like that," he grumbled, picking at his food. "Well…" he amended, "it's _kind_ of like that. My dad's trying to use me as a pawn to tie his company to another. He wants me to finish my education at that crummy boarding school, then marry some girl so I can take over the sector when I turn sixteen. He's _real_ progressive until there's some scientific conflict of interest.  
BUT _it won't work!_ I don't really have a plan yet, but I'll figure it out! I mean, he can't just make me go through with this! —Marry me off like some medieval mail order bride! I'm a paranormal investigator! I just… _really_ don't want to be sent to the Crazy House for Boys for defending my… paranormalling."  
Zim blinked lazily, only hearing half his noise. "I still don't know what 'married' means."  
Dib slapped his forehead. "A MATE, ZIM! A MATE!"  
Zim gasped in horror. "Your dad wants you to mate?!"  
"Yes!"  
Zim gasped again. "To a female?!"  
"Yes!"  
He gasped. "At a crummy board school with science?!"  
The horrible reality of the situation settled into Dib's face. "…Yes…"  
There was a beat of silence and Zim burst into raucous laughter, doubling over in deep-bellied hysterics at his misfortune, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.  
Dib glared, waiting as Zim finally pulled himself together.  
" **Woo!** _Wow_ , does that suck!"  
"I KNOW! Ugh. This is the worst." Dib ran his hands through his hair, trying to wrack his brain again for some sort of solution.  
Zim grinned and bounced up from his seat. "Well, sucks to be you Dib. I hope that- **Wait! Will you be made to breed?!** "  
"I dunno, probably."  
Zim's imagination went wild with the terrible thought.  
An army of tiny Dib-spawns—led by Dib himself—chasing him through the city streets—each of them armed with torches and pitchforks, screaming: _"Look an alien!"_  
The horror. The madness!  
He heaved.  
What would be next?! Overwhelmed by drooling filth?! Outnumbered, pinned to an autopsy table?! And the dookie…  
_So many Dibs._  
All at once, Zim screamed, high and horrible, screeching the cafeteria to a halt.  
**"WE HAVE TO STOP IT!"** he wailed.  
"Huh?!"  
Zim leaned over the table and snatched him by the collar. "As long as I'm on this dirt ball, I will only tolerate one of you existing! That alone upsets me."  
Dib thought that over. "Well… thanks, I think. Wait a minute, how would you go about preventing that?"  
Zim stood up, dismissing him with a flap of his hand.  
"Never mind the details, Dib. If I am anything, I am a problem solver."  
"No, you're not. You _cause_ problems."  
Zim flinched at the insult but ignored him. Now was not the time to talk to the Dib when such danger was at stake. Determination and purpose swelled in his veins and he puffed out his chest, strutting out of the cafeteria with his mission in mind.  
Dib watched him leave uncomfortably. "…Why do I have a really bad feeling about this?"


	3. Zim Causes Problems

  “HA, HA, HA, HA! No!” Dr. Membrane laughed.  
   “But you must change your mind!” Zim wailed.  
    “I'm sorry hideous green child, but the matter is not open for discussion! This was decided long ago, BEFORE THE DAWN OF TIME ITSELF.” He cleared his throat. “…Or at least, since last Tuesday.”  
    Zim folded his arms, glancing around Membrane's expansive, primitive lab as he continued.  
    “The deal was made with an old buddy of mine. He's a bit of an old-fashioned ninny, but his technology combined my brilliance could change the world as we know it! But he will only consider it if Dib marries his daughter.”  
    He had even encouraged his son early on with a picture of the unsightly baby and laughed to himself at the memory.  
    “So that's the way it is. I told Dib before that time he may go gallivanting about as much as he wishes, but enough is enough! Dib has a responsibility to uphold the family name. It's time to put an end to this paranormal nonsense of his.” He shook his head. “Always with the paranormal, that boy.”  
    “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Zim replied in a loss of interest.  
    Dr. Membrane turned back to his work, a spark in his cords. “It would be different if Dib had a girlfriend or something. But _girlfriend?_ ” He exploded into laughter. “That's a joke! He doesn’t have any friends whatsoever! Closing him off from society is just what he needs!”  
    Zim's thoughts snapped back to purpose, and a hyperventilating sound escaped him. He was losing the argument.  
    “BUT--! I'm his **_boy—_** ” Zim twirled his hand, absently. “ ** _—friend._** Doesn't that count for anything?”  
    Dr. Membrane stopped.  
    Zim grimaced as soon as the vile notion left his mouth.  
     _Friend_. Dib. Disgusting.  
    But sometimes sacrifices had to be made. And he remained hopeful. It seemed his passionate speech had an effect this time.  
  _“ _What?!_ " _The professor spun around. "…Is this true?!”  
    Zim could feel those eyes examining him through those wide, fogged goggles, and he glanced around uncomfortably. “…Yes?”  
    His answer sent Membrane into a strange daze.

    Though Zim supposed the idea of Dib having friends _was_ rather unbelievable.  
    Still, he wished to hurry this along.  
    “Um, sir? Does this mean you will reconsider?”  
    He was silent for a moment. “I confess I had no idea.”  
    “….Sooo that's a yes then?”  
    Dr. Membrane nodded numbly. “It... looks like I don't have much of a choice in the matter.”  
    Another strange silence spread. Zim looked around awkwardly, scratching his butt.  
    “ _Well_ … I'll just be going then.” He turned to leave.  
    “WAIT!” Dr. Membrane called. “My son... is he... that important to you?”  
    Zim cackled. “ _Important?!_ For a human meat slave he will be...! Er, I mean **yes!** Oh, _oh_ yes! Dib means all of… eh, _everything_ to me! I… I don't know where I would _be_ without that giant, hideous meat sack of a head of his.”  
    “I see. So this engagement has been nothing but troublesome for the two of you."  
    “Glad you understand. As a matter of fact, the very idea of him going away is… eh, _enough to break my heart,_ ” he lied thickly. “I just couldn’t bear it!”  
    Zim threw his arms up dramatic swoon, cracking an eye open, only to gauge the effect of his acting.  
    The professor lowered his eyes. “I will definitely think it over.”  
    “Excellent.” Satisfied his mission was complete, and disengaged of all interest, Zim marched high out of the vicinity.  
    As usual, he was victorious! Genius, even!  
    The foolish worm child wouldn’t even know what hit him.

~oOo~

    It was a rare, nice evening, Dib thought. Not that anything exciting had happened really, but everything seemed to be going just right.  
    The kitchen was warm. No one was being snide to one another. His dad somehow got the night off, and had ordered in Bloaty's.  
   “It's sure is nice that you got the time off work to eat with us, dad!” he remarked in between chews.  
    “Ha, ha, ha. _Yep_.” Dr. Membrane shifted in his seat.  
    “Just… pass the potatoes,” Gaz growled, but her voice was devoid of malice.  
    It was somewhat rare for them to eat as a family like this; and usually it was penciled into their schedule.  
    Dib almost wondered what had gone on in the labs to warrant it.  
    For a while, they all sat in normal, affable silence.  
    And then it was slaughtered.  
    “ _Sooo... Dib_ , your boyfriend came over to talk to me today.”  
    Dib stopped eating and cocked his head. “Pardon?”  
    “Called it.” Gaz chewed.  
    Dib shot a glare across the table and cleared his throat. “Dad, you said ‘boyfriend’. I don’t—”  
    “You don't have to put up a front, son,” he interrupted. “I always knew you were a bit obsessed with the foreign green boy. Honestly, it’s my fault for not noticing sooner.”  
    “Foreign green…?” His eyes flew open in realization. **_“ZIM?!_** ”  
    “Ah, yes, Zim. I should probably be calling him by his name now.”  
    Dib went pale. His brain malfunctioned, but all that came out of him was an incoherent squeak.  
    “Anyway, Zim came over and told me everything. He's given me a lot to think about.”  
    Dib stared into space. “ _What_ … did he say, exactly?”  
    Dr. Membrane shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but raised his eyes to his son. “He apparently loves you deeply and would be heartbroken to see you married to someone else…”  
    After that, all Dib heard was noise.  
    His brain broke. His brain broke in a way that would send the strongest man into fits of sick, or hurling off cliffs.  
    Gaz grinned maliciously. “Called it.”  
    Dib’s eye twitched.  
    “Anyway, I ended up promising the boy I would think about your future arrangements a little more carefully. He was very upset.”  
    Sarcasm bubbled from that. _“Zim was upset.”_ He looked up. “Dad, can you excuse me for a moment?”  
    “Of course!” Dr. Membrane replied.  
    Dib pushed out of his chair calmly got to his feet, traveling with heavy legs out to the phone in the living room hall.  
     
~oOo~

  
    Zim frowned in his living room, hands behind his back, a squid in each fist.  
    His henchmen were seated on the couch with flash cards, ready to be all judge-y.  
    Zim eyed them critically. His newest plan was already super perfect and amazing but… he just couldn’t decide between the purple squid or the orange one. He was counting on their votes now. And he needed complete focus.  
    He held up the orange squid first.  
    The verdict was a 6 from Gir, and a 4 from Minimoose.  
    The phone rang.  
    Zim was a little flabbergasted at the voting result. He thought the orange one was much, much worthier than a 4, but he put away the thought with the overly persistent phone noise.  
    He plodded over and snatched it up from the receiver.  
    “…Hello?”  
     **“WHAT ON NEPTUNE DID YOU DO?!”**  
    Zim flinched. “There is hardly a reason to yell, _Stink-meat._ What do you want?”  
    “ _Zim!_ What did you tell my dad?! Why does he think we're in a relationship?!”  
    He squinted an eye. “I don't know what you're talking about, but I _did_ speak to your parental unit earlier today and it looks like I solved the issue completely! Though I knew I would.”  
    Zim leaned against the arm of his couch and crossed his ankles, smug at all his cleverness. “You owe me for your newfound freedom, _Stink_. No board skool. No _squishy mate larva..._ ”  
    “Zim, you told my dad that YOU were my mate!”  
    “I did no such thing!” he snapped. “Besides that's impossible. I am _way_ out of your league.”  
     **“THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE HERE!”** Dib wailed. “Look, my life is already weird and complicated enough without my dad thinking I’m--! Without throwing _this_ in the mix.” He glared angrily into the receiver. “—And… by the way, if I wanted you, I’d _totally_ have you.”  
    Zim scoffed, buffing a gloved nail. “Not if you were the last bipedal meat carcass this side of Borjin 9.”  
    Dib was about to retort, but was interrupted.  
  **“Is that Zim?”**  
    Dib started, not hearing his father come up behind him, though Zim recognized the voice easily.  
    “Tell him I want him over for dinner tomorrow night,” Dr. Membrane said. “I need to speak to you both. It's mandatory!”  
    _“Eeagh!_ ” Zim panicked. “Tell him I don’t want to be dinner!”  
    “You're not going to _be_ dinner. He wants you to come over to _talk_ , you moron!”  
    “Good,” Dr. Membrane said. “It’s a date then.” And before Dib could blink, he had exited the hall.  
    “Dad…” He did a double-take. “ _Date?!_ ”  
    “Date? …What?”  
    Zim’s eyes suddenly widened, the pieces of the situation fitting together in his head. And he screamed.  
  **“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!”**  
    It nearly blew out the speakers of Dib’s phone. Actually, he was pretty sure the whole planet could hear it.  
    “HE… HE’S SERIOUS!”  
    He threw up his arms. “Oh, _now_ you get it!”  
    “What are we going to do?! I don’t want to be your mate! Undo this!! **HURRY UP AND UNDO THIS HORRIBLE THING!”**  
    “I can’t! I don’t wanna go to boarding school!”  
    “I am _not_ getting pulled into one of _your_ problems!”  
    “You did this to yourself!”  
    “GIR, FETCH ME THE BUCKEEEEET!” Zim yelled behind him.  
    _“Oh, man.”_ Dib ran a hand through his hair, wracking his brain in a panic. “Okay. Okay we're going to have to meet somewhere and come up with some kind of plan—”  
    He was interrupted by the obvious sound of Zim vomiting.  
    “We’ll meet up tonight,” he insisted. “I’ll sneak over to your base later tonight. If we both work together, maybe we can both get what we want.”  
    Zim retched the last of his sick. “…Fine.”  
    “Okay… good.” Dib said. “See you tonight.”


	4. ...Fire?

_  
_     _No. No no no no no no no no._

    It was no use. He'd wracked his brain for hours, paced holes in his bedroom floor, in the street, but not one clear cut solution came to mind. Not by the time their meeting took place. And that alone made Dib sick.

 _“Welcome home, son.”_  
    Dib glanced up into the unnerving stare of the robot parents, but his mind was far too busy. And it wasn’t long before Zim pushed through, kicking the parents back with his heel and shoving them into the closet.  
    “Come in. We have a truce for now.”  
    Dib glared, but followed him inside, still reeling at the stupidity of all this.  
    Zim plodded forward and then spun on his heel. “ _But first,_ give me one good reason why I shouldn't tell your unit I have severed my relationship with you and have him find your corpse chopped into a meaty soup.”  
    “Because that would be lame."  
     _“Lame?!”_  
    “Yes. And may I remind you if you don't help me, my dad's going to ‘make me breed,’ remember?”  
    Zim had to admit, Dib’s spooky hands were very convincing and he shuddered at the thought, allowing him access into his home.  
    And Dib began to pace. “So, I’ve analyzed the situation from every angle while I was on the way here and I've only come up with one logical solution. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but: I need you to be my boyfriend.”  
    “No.”  
    “Well, my fake boyfriend."  
    “Uh-uh.”  
    “For a week.”  
    “Not happening.”  
    “Oh, come on!” he yelled. “I don't see you coming up with any better ideas!”  
    Zim shrugged. “I was just going to clone myself.”  
    “You are _not_ cloning yourself! That is the last thing anyone needs!”  
    “ _Your_ plan isn’t any better!” he snapped.  
    “Look, my dad already thinks we’re together.” The words tasted so gross in his mouth. “We'd just be playing along. Then as soon as this is over we can go back to destroying each other like none of this ever happened.”  
    Zim trembled at the sheer revulsion of it. “NNNNNO! The very _idea_ is disgusting!”  
    “It's the only way.”  
    “Hnng. **CURSE YOUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!** ” He got in his face. _“I hate you.”_  
    “Trust me," Dib snarled, "the feeling’s mutual.”

~oOo~

     The two rounded the corner, single file up the walk to Dib's house, the sky sitting between impending night and the city's pollution sunset.  
    "-And no talk about destroying mankind," he ordered.  
  
    "Mhm."  
  
    "And be sure to be nice to my dad. Compliment him. He likes that."  
  
    "—Yep."  
  
    Dib glared behind him.  
  
    It had taken him forever to get Zim halfway cooperative for the stupid operation. And the only thing he'd really achieved was wrestling the jerk into a tie and combing his stupid wig. There was no fixing his personality and it didn't help that he wouldn't listen to any of his instructions.  
  
    "Are you even listening? This is important. He's probably going to grill you with a million questions about how we got together."  
  
_Blah blah blah blah blah blah._  
  
    Zim gazed lazily down the sidewalk, idly wondering how Dib's weird neck managed to support a head of that magnitude. Even after all these years, it managed to stay the exact same size with the rest of him.  
  
    Then again, he _had_ stunted his growth…  
  
    "Zim!"  
  
    "Hm?!" He heard the dip in his rant, but a mangy one-eyed cat wandered across his path and Zim had another thought.  
  
    "What if I just replace your dad's head with this cat?" He gathered the gross beast in his arms and presented it to Dib.  
  
    "You can't just replace people's heads! And get that thing out of my face!" Dib swatted it away.  
  
    The animal growled, hissing and spitting wildly. And after a moment of thought, Zim launched the cat into Dib's face.  
  
    Dib screamed and fell, his life a blur of scratching, biting and pavement.  
  
    Zim marched past him up the porch stairs. "Yes, yes. I get it. Blah blah. Be normal!"  
  
    He rang the doorbell, and Dib dragged himself up the steps behind.  
  
    It was only a matter of moments, Dr. Membrane burst through the door.  
  
    "SON! You are one minute and forty-three seconds late for dinner! What is the meaning of this?!"  
  
    Dib climbed to his feet. "Sorry, Dad," he grumbled.  
  
    "Ah, Zim, you're here!" He towered over Zim, low and intimidating. "Are you ready for _**supper?!**_ "  
  
    Zim gulped.  
  
    "Right this way then." He gestured them cheerfully inside.  
  
    Zim wrung his hands nervously and he followed them in, his eyes casting around the room at all the sinister objects that could potentially impale him.

    Lamps... Pointy plants....  
  
    Perhaps this _was_ a trap to feast on his glorious guts!  
  
    What he found instead was the tame dining area of the Membrane kitchen. The table was set up in what Zim assumed was a human version of fancy: a white table cloth draped over, food and dishes spread nice and neat, the center piece adorned with lighted candles.  
  
    Gaz was already at the table with a bag of popcorn, no doubt to enjoy the show.  
    "Dib tells me your allergic to everything! But fear not. My Breakfast-tron 3000 will gladly make anything you desire! Even waffles!" Dr. Membrane turned to his invention proudly.  
  
    Breakfast-tron hummed at the command, scanning Zim's brain waves.  
**  
"PREPARING WAFFLES… SLASH… DESTRUCTION OF MANKIND! HRRGH!"**  
    The robot trembled, the order once again too much for the robot, and a waffle shot from its chest, careening at high speeds into Zim's face.  
  
    Then it turned around and burst through the kitchen drywall, flying out towards the city.  
  
    "It has a few bugs to work out." Dr. Membrane chuckled to himself, ignoring the screaming and explosions outside. "So, Zim. Tell us about yourself. What country are you from?"  
  
    Dib prodded the spaghetti unhappily on his plate. _"Still an alien,"_ he growled.  
  
    Zim glared and kicked him beneath the table.  
  
    "Uh! His family are immigrants!"  
  
    "I wasn't born in this country, eh, but _oh how I wish I was._ "  
  
    Dr. Membrane nodded. "I see. That makes perfect sense now!"  
  
    Dib rolled his eyes, twirling his noodles and mentally cursing the stupidity that was Zim and his life, while Zim sniffed and poked his waffle suspiciously.  
  
    The silence was so awkward and horrible. Dib desperately tried to curb it. "So, how's work going, dad?"  
  
    "Fine, fine. So Zim, are you an only child?"  
  
    Zim prodded the waffle until it squeaked. "I have a dog," he answered. " _And_ parents. That's normal."  
  
    Dib facepalmed.  
  
    "Hm. Yes. Do you two have any classes together?"  
  
    Dib blocked a hand in front of Zim, motioning his take over.  
    He'd well prepared for this part.  
  
    And the dance of wits began.  
  
    "All except one."  
      
    "How long have you been together?"  
  
    "Three months exactly."  
  
    "And you met at school then?"  
  
    "Yes."  
  
    "When-?"  
    "Fourth Grade. Week 3. Second hour. On a Thursday," Dib rattled, folding his arms.  
  
    Zim blinked at that, mentally searching his PAK database to see if that really aligned.  
  
    Huh. He hadn't lied about that one.  
  
    Dr. Membrane's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And what compelled you to pursue such a relationship with one another?"  
  
    Dib and Zim looked at one another and glowered, tight jaws and clenched fists.  
  
    Gaz nommed on her popcorn.  
  
    "Ehhhhh, w-who knows?" Zim posed at the sky.  
  
    "It just sort of happened," Dib evaded, taking a tall swig of water.  
  
    "And how far along are you in your relationship? Have you two kissed yet?"  
  
    Dib promptly choked on his drink.  
  
    Apparently Zim understood the question too. He leapt up in his seat looking like he had just been greenlit for genocide.  
  
**"Absolutely not!"**  
  
    His expression sat somewhere between sickness and tearing Membrane's spine from his body. And Dib knew he just might.  
  
    He put a hand in front of him, coughing and sputtering. "Dad! Isn't that a little too personal?!"  
  
    "That is—!"  
  
    Dib pushed him back. "Zim, please."  
  
    Undiluted rage quaked Zim's frame, but there must have been some reservoir of self-control he drew from, because after a moment of glaring daggers into Dr. Membrane's soul, Zim simmered hatefully into his seat.  
  
    Gaz munched another fistful of popcorn.  
  
    "He's… very protective of our personal life," Dib recovered.  
  
    Zim took a large, angry bite out of his waffle, tearing it with his teeth.  
  
    "We haven't really gone public with this," Dib said, "but if you feel the need to talk to Grisl or her family, I'll totally understand."  
  
    "That's actually the main thing I wanted to talk to you two about," Dr. Membrane replied gravely. "Due to the circumstances at hand, I'm afraid your relationship must be terminated immediately."  
  
    Dib blanched in horror. "What?! Why?!"  
  
    "Son, you know the situation with Grisl has already been set in stone. And the final papers for the company and boarding school will be signed by the end of the week."  
  
    "You can't do this! You can't decide my whole life for me!"  
  
    "Well, I can try! ...Can't you see how this will be good for you?!"  
    "No!"  
    Zim swallowed his bite of waffle, ignoring the fight, and his eyes lit up at the yumminess. "Hey, these waffles aren't bad."  
  
    "I understand what you were trying to do but it isn't that simple!" Dr. Membrane yelled and then he turned to Zim. "You really like them?" he asked.  
  
    "Mhm." He chewed.  
  
    "I'm glad!"  
  
    "I thought you said you'd reconsider!" Dib folded his arms. "I'm not marrying Grisl."  
  
    He looked over at Zim eating his waffle. He knew he was grasping at straws but damn if he wasn't desperate.  
  
    "What about _Zim?!_ " he demanded.  
  
    "Hm? What? _Hnngyaaak!_ " Zim's hands flew to his throat, the waffle lodged tight in his windpipe and he started to choke.  
  
    But it was the heat of the argument and Dib didn't notice.  
  
    "He's my boyfriend! I'm not just going to leave him! We have a serious relationship. I might even see a future with him."  
  
    Zim coughed and wheezed, hacking desperately, pounding the table like he was choking to death.  
  
    Dib ignored it. "I'm going to further my education on my own terms! And you can't tell me who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with!"  
  
    Zim let out one last throaty noise, and fell to the floor, taking the tablecloth and everything with him.  
  
    Dishes crashed. Noodles flew, splattering every which way. The candles knocked and rolled catching the mess, and the tablecloth burst into flames.  
  
    Gaz chewed her popcorn calmly.  
  
    Dib glared at his father. "Come on, Zim."  
  
    He grabbed Zim by the ankle, dragging him out of the room behind him, only stopping when he accidentally slamming the door on his head.  
  
    "Ow."  
  
    "Oh, sorry."  
  
    And with that they were gone, leaving Dr. Membrane and Gaz in a kitchen of firey, noodley ruin.  
  
    "Well, that was interesting," Gaz said.  
  
    Dr. Membrane shook his head. "Where have I gone wrong?"  
  
    She shrugged and without another word, got up to find the fire extinguisher.


	5. Ingenious Intervention #2

    "RAAGH! IT WAS SO HORRIBLE!"  
  
    "Awww man~" Gir crooned. "I'm sorry bout dat, Master."  
  
    Zim paced back and forth in his base, hardly able to digest such fury. There was no getting _any_ amazing invaderness done under these conditions! What he had just experienced had his mind spinning to more pertinent means!  
  
_Means_ that would get them out of this situation. _Means_ that would be done by… any… means necessary!  
  
    "That waffle tried to kill me! _GRAH!_ And all the noise! You should have heard his noise, Gir! It was _vile! **VIIIIIIIIIIIIILE!**_ "  
  
    "Did he use the right harmonies for da potato song? You needs a C#," Gir explained.  
  
    Minimoose joined with an agreeable squeak.  
  
    " _I can't take it anymore!_ If I spend any more time in the presence of the Dib, I…" Rage shook him deep from his belly, feeling a wave of sickness at the very thought.  
    He plodded darkly to his control room.  
  
    "He thinks he can just drag me around in this horrible thing, but he is wrong! We'll see what happens when I intervene... some more!" He swiped along the screen in thought.  
  
    "Dib can't marry a girl who has spontaneously exploded or launched into the sun! What do you think, Gir?"  
  
    Gir stared at him a long moment, processing his master's words. Then he smiled.  
  
    "IMMA PUT A BISCUIT ON YOUR HEAD! _...Thisssssssss biscuit,"_ he whispered. He procured the moldy, prize from his head cavity in reverence, setting its flakiness delicately on Zim's forehead.  
  
    Zim brushed it off. "No head biscuits, Gir. This is serious!"  
  
    " _Oooooooh_."  
  
    Zim scanned his controls. Using Irken location and his overall cleverness, it wasn't difficult to locate the dwelling of the female "Grisl's" dwelling and set up the coordinates for a reasonably-sized doom missile.  
  
    In no time at all, he had finished, and was quite satisfied with the setup.  
  
    ' _Launch Missile?'_ his console asked.  
  
    Zim smirked and pushed his confirmation ' _Yes_ ', cackling deeply at his ingeniousness. He could already feel his troubles exploding away!  
  
    Even Gir joined in maniacal laughter beside him.  
  
    And his plan played out flawlessly. In no time at all, the house was blasted to smithereens, leaving behind nothing but a pile of smoldering ruin.  
  
    Zim couldn't help but swell with pride. Seriously, why was he _so amazing?!_  
  
~oOo~  
  
    There was no time to waste. So he didn't. Zim announced his awesome presence by kicking the door open and marching proudly into Dib's house, ever ready to reap the benefits of his amazing plan.  
  
    The Dib would praise him. That much was obvious.  
  
    But the first sweet, sweet sound that greeted him was Membrane's terrified voice.  
  
    The professor had the phone clutched to his face in horror, talking a mile a minute. ~ _"HOW CAN THIS BE?!"_  
  
    Zim couldn't help but take it in.  
  
    Really, he deserved far worse for saying the words 'kissing' and 'Dib' in the same sentence, but it was rewarding regardless.  
  
    Dib walked over to Zim's side nervously, awaiting the results of his father's call.  
  
    _~"Uh huh… uh huh… uh huh… uh huhhhhhh…"_  
  
    Dib glared over. " _A missile?_ " he hissed under his breath.  
  
    Zim looked over and blinked in fake innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
    Dib's hands balled into fists. Really, he hated the situation just as much as Zim did, but he didn't exactly need Zim-related casualties either.  
  
    Then Dr. Membrane's voice raised. "NO! YOU MUST LISTEN TO REASON! …Let's not be hasty… I understand… Yes… I'll tell him." And with that he hung up the receiver.  
  
    Panic coursed through Dib. "What? What's going on?"  
  
    Dr. Membrane turned around somberly. "Son your marriage arrangement has been canceled—"  
  
    Dib sighed in relief.  
  
    "—And has been rescheduled to the end of this month."  
  
    Dib's eyes shriveled in horror.  
  
    "THIS _MONTH?!"_ he wailed. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!"  
  
    "That high proton alien missile threatened his daughter's very life," he explained. "Why, if she had been home, who knows what could have happened?"  
  
    Dib whipped hotly over to Zim, glaring daggers.  
  
    Zim grinned, wide and sheepish.  
  
    "Dad you can't do this! I'm way too young! What about school? And my future career? I have paranormal stuff to do! Not to mention protect the earth…"  
  
    Dr. Membrane shook his head at his son's madness and walked away.  
  
    Dib looked between Zim and his father, his mind spinning. And with a blind, desperate resolve, he snatched Zim by the wrist, racing after.  
  
    Zim yelped, nearly tripping over himself at the violence of it, but Dib ignored it until they had blocked his father's path.  
  
    Zim finally wrenched his arm free, only to have Dib seize him back by the hand, squeezing with a vice grip Zim didn't know the boy possessed.  
  
    And it was deceptively painful.  
  
_**"Cancel it."**_  
  
    His voice was low, dangerous.  
  
    Zim even stopped struggling for a second at that tone.  
  
    That was the voice Dib used when he was about to do something sincerely underhanded, when his normally predictable enemy turned his morals down low... the kind Gaz used when she was about to plunge you into your nightmares.  
  
    It was the voice of open autopsies and formaldehyde.  
  
    That big head was stewing something evil. And Dib was holding his hand in the middle of it.  
  
    Zim got to work double time, wriggling, desperate to pry his hand out.  
  
    "Dib…" Dr. Membrane started gently.  
  
    "Cancel it," he repeated, "or I'll make this _whole thing_ public. I'll raise a huge fuss! It'll be in every magazine, every tabloid, slathered all over the news!"  
  
    "Son, don't be foolish. It'll hurt your reputation as well—"  
  
    "Maybe so, but it will be way worse for you! Everyone already thinks I'm crazy! This will hardly be a scratch on my record."  
  
    "RELEASE ME!" Zim yelled.  
  
    But Dib held no reprieve, only raising his chin higher. "I'll tell them all you are trading me off just to make some sick deal for monetary gain…!"  
  
    "In the name of _science!"_ Dr. Membrane argued.  
  
 "I'm losing feeling!" Zim snapped.  
  
    "While I'm underage! Without my consent!" The venom thickened in his voice. "And then I'll pull at their heartstrings… how you are forcing me away from my poor sick boyfriend who has a skin disease..."  
  
    Zim stopped, realizing he'd been pulled in to something "Uh… Dib… _heh_ … that's enough of your crazy-talk now…"  
  
    "Who do you think they'll sympathize with more then? Huh? _Huh?!_ "  
  
    "DIB-LET-GO-OF-MY-HAND-OR-SUFFER-THE-WRATH-OF- _ **Ziiiiiiiim!**_ "  
  
    At that, Dib finally released his hand.  
  
    Zim stared at the damage. Half of it looked shriveled and ready to fall off. He grimaced in disgust, attempting to wipe the sick Dib residue off.  
  
    "Like I said: cancel it," Dib said firmly, and with that, he turned, striding towards the door.  
      
    Zim glanced back at Dr. Membrane and awkwardly followed, still nursing the pain in his hand.  
  
    But he wasn't prepared for what he saw outside.  
  
    TV cameras and paparazzi had swarmed all sides of the house. They were in the yard, the sidewalk, the porch , gawking and chattering. Snapping sounds, flashing cameras, microphones pushed in his face...  
  
    They were animals, climbing over on top of each other, asking questions he couldn't understand.  
  
    He was nearly swallowed in the sea of humans, until he saw the tail of Dib's jacket in the crowd and struggled desperately to keep up.  
  
    A black car waited for them at the curbside, and Zim didn't ask as the door opened, scrambling inside, locking the door behind him.  
  
    Within moments, the humans had plastered against the windows and Zim cowered in fear.  
  
    "H-How did they find us so fast?"  
  
    "They can smell you," Dib answered.  
  
    They looked like vultures. Hideous, screeching vultures. Zim shuddered in the safety of his seat.  
  
    Dib procured a remote control button from his center console and pushed it. Immediately, the house was surrounded by an electric fence and Zim could hear the shrieking outside.  
  
   After a moment, he gathered his wits. "What have you dragged me into now?!"  
  
    "This has spiraled into a complete disaster," Dib muttered to himself.  
  
    Zim frowned. "This is all your fault, _pig-monkey!_ "  
  
    "MY fault?!"  
  
    "I should have just let that stupid bordering skool drag you away by your ugly TOES! I wouldn't have to deal with this nonsense OR YOUR FILTH!"  
  
    "Why didn't you do it then, huh?! HUH?!"  
  
    "Because… I… yiiiig… YOU'RE STUPID!" he recovered.  
  
    "You don't want me to go just as much as I don't want to!"  
  
    " _ **LIES!**_ I just happen to like my victims of doom in close range of my… doom. Had I known better I would have left you to rot."  
  
    "Well, we can't back out now!"  
  
    There was a silence, the two stewing in the horrendousness.  
  
    "...Two weeks," Dib said. "It should only take… two or three weeks before everything will return to normal... more or less." He glanced over and sneered. "Unless, of course, that's something you can't handle…"  
  
    Zim whipped his head to him, eyes narrowing. He knew it was bait, but he was already mad.  
  
    " _As if, **Dib-worm** ,_" he spat. "Zim can handle _any_ and _all_ of anything a human could _ever_ —"  
  
    "Good," Dib interrupted. "…Because we're going on a date."


	6. Chivarly Slaughtered

    This. Was. The Worst.  
    Dib stared at himself in the mirror and adjusted his tie like he was going to a war. Or a funeral. Or both. Really, both would be fine. Anything was preferable next to a date with Zim.  
    Actually, he had a whole list of things he’d rather be doing, including swallowing bugs and being bludgeoned to death in a sewer full of cult-worshiping crab people.  
    But handing his future over without a fight was not one of them. Nor was giving Zim free reign to take over the earth.  
    He had _some_ sense. He could sit through a dinner with the little green booger for that.  
    So with one last sanity-steadying breath, Dib put on his best game face and took to the stairs.  
    His father’s voice boomed to his nerves, cloying. “Don’t forget, son! I’m sending drones to occasionally spy on you! Aand have fun!”  
    Dib cringed and checked out the window down the street.  
    A small smattering of paparazzi was sniffing around the bushes at the end of the block.  
    He suddenly sort of welcomed the drones. Accumulating right-framed media sympathy was what was going to get them out of the situation faster. People were suckers for love stories. And they were stupid.  
    Even if he half-assed this whole excursion, he was sure they’d eat it up. So long as he didn’t deck the jerk before the night was over.  
    Dib made his way out to his waiting driver as it rolled to a stop, only pausing once at the sidewalk to pluck a handful of ugly weeds.  
~oOo~  
    Zim answered the door with unreasonable force, and Dib stood on the other side, blue button up and black tie, leaning in his doorframe--getting his filth everywhere.  
    Complete with earth-customary dead vegetation.  
    He sized him up. “First of all: you’re late. Second: you look stupid.”  
    Dib was almost impressed. Zim actually did the whole bow tie and wig thing without putting up a fight.  
    Minus him glaring daggers and being a horrible alien menace, this was progress.  
    Zim puffed out his chest angrily. “How dare you make the mighty Zim wait?!”  
    Dib shook the dirty bouquet in his face as he yelled, until Zim finally choked on a weed and predictably slapped it out of his hands.  
    Dib snickered. “You ready, Space-boy?”  
    Zim scowled, but a strange whirring sound made him raise his eyes.  
    The drones were watching, idling menacingly above their heads, just over the base.  
    So Dib swallowed his pride and unhappily held out the crook of his arm for him to take.  
    Zim stared blankly at the gesture. “What is that?”  
    He rolled his eyes. “Just grab on. It’s a human thing.”  
    Zim shoved him into the doorframe, mentally insulting all elbows within a twenty-mile radius as he marched down the walk.  
    Dib nursed the pain in his skull and quickly raced to the car to open the door for him. (He had to make it look good, after all.)  
    Though Zim was not amused. “…Really?”  
    Dib shrugged. “I’m a gentleman.”  
    Zim responded by taking the car door and callously thumping him in the head with it on his way in.  
    Dib’s gritted his teeth and mentally tacked on another bruise.  
    The date hadn’t even started yet and already he wanted to leap across the seat and throttle him.  
    But Dib managed to defuse his temper. “…You jerk.” He looked up at the chauffeur. “Driver, take us to Money Grubbies, please.”  
    Zim folded his arms tightly and turned his attention out the window, watching as the cul-de-sac shuddered and rolled by outside.  
    Even the silence between them was hateful.  
    Finally, Dib turned to him. “Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you do, but the least we can do is try to make the best of the situation—”  
    “Dib, if I were capable of dreaming, this would be what you’d call _'_ a nightmare.'”  
    Dib blinked. He wanted to be mad, but… that was actually rather eloquently put.  
    “The only interest _I_ have is being done with this situation ENTIRELY. That and—fusing your gigantic head with a toaster.”  
    “My head’s not gigantic!”  
    “Please. If it was any larger it would command its own orbit,” he replied easily. “The point is there is no _good_ to this situation. There is simply _me_.... tolerating you. You and your greasy, primitive existence.”  
    Dib scowled and settled back in his seat with another mumbled: “…Jerk.”  
    And the rest of the car ride stewed in just that, enemy silence, and the sick-bellied churning that the worst was yet to come.

****


	7. A No Good, Very Bad Date

_**Chapter 7: A No Good, Very Bad Date  
  
**_     The restaurant was stuffy, awkward, and excruciatingly boring. From the moment they walked in, a huge floating camera drone conspicuously watched their every move. No conversation was shared, and it wasn't as if Zim could actually eat anything that was given to him. All he did was send the staff on ridiculous food chases to get the dull-witted waitress away from him.  
    Dib, however, was high alert. There had been a couple a few booths back that kept looking at them and checking their phones. Sure enough, about ten minutes later, the paparazzi started to file outside.  
    But it was the drones he was really interested in. Sure, there was the one conspicuous camera, but if he knew his father, (and he did), there would likely be a few more spy drones sent to prowl undercover. And he wanted the entire audience seated before they broke out the god-awful show.  
    Finally, after one last scan of the room, he found the hidden drones.  
    Dib tossed a fork on the floor to distract the main eye.  
    "Drones. Three o'clock."  
    Zim raised his eyes to the direction.  
    Sure enough, three primitively disguised bots were moving in from the west side of the restaurant. At the bathroom, a barstool, and he was pretty sure the bar woman's bottle opener was a recording device.  
    "Alright," Dib whispered, "here we go."  
    He cleared his throat loudly. " _Zim!_ I'm so glad you could come and meet here in secret!"  
    "Oh, yes! Same. All of the sneakiness!" he agreed.  
    A mechanical chitter sounded from the floor beside Dib, where a tiny robot drone with legs was crawling up the side of his ankle.  
    Dib tried to shake it off.  
    "But why, Dib?" Zim continued aloud. "Why must we do all of the—"  
    Dib kicked hard, sending the drone flying into someone's food, and kicking Zim in the process.  
    "AGH! Hey! Watch it!" Zim kicked back.  
    "OW! Sorry!"  
    He snatched him by the collar. _**"I'll show you the meaning of sorry, you little—!"**_  
    The technical whine of camera lenses filled the room, uncomfortably close, and he stopped cold.  
    He righted himself quick to his seat.  
    "Uh! I mean… YOU…. Dib-wretch… _love boy_ …. Eh, your gross meat shape seems… _less revolting_ … somehow, in this lighting," Zim tried. "I thought I should let you know how much I appreciate that."  
    Zim paused and batted his eyes.  
    Dib nearly heaved. If he didn't think he could be any more repulsed by the situation before, he was dead wrong.  
    Perhaps boarding school, a strange girl and a lifetime of soul sucking lab work wasn't such a bad way to live.  
    " **Yes**. What a fine example of that thing you are!" Zim glared exasperated, waiting for him to pick up the pace.  
    The drones whirred dangerously above their heads, and Dib found his senses.  
    "And _you_ are just so—green," he fumbled. "So _so_ green and… not at all obnoxious or mentally jarring!"  
    Zim scowled and leaned in across the table. _"…That was horrible,"_ he hissed.  
     _"Oh, now we're critiquing?"_ he hissed back.  
    The two glowered. And a few cameras flashed outside their window.  
    Zim sat up. "I have heard about your engagement Dib, and boy am I distressed!"  
    "Me too!" Dib replied loudly. "I think about it often, being away from you!"  
    "Yes! Sad!"  
    " _So_ sad."  
    "The saddest." Zim paused. "How ever will I go on?"  
    Still there was no reaction from the crowd.  
    He leaned into the table. " _It's not working,"_ he whispered.  
    Dib checked the drones. _"We may need to step it up a notch."_  
    " **Gee** , Dib! You sure look and smell like **a whole lot of boy-nice!** " The cameras backed up and Zim was instantly encouraged. " _Eh_ , yes! And your hair is VERY pointy in a way I do not despise whatsoever!"  
    Dib just stared at the terrible fake-human spectacle. "Wow. Was that flirting?"  
    Zim's eyes narrowed. "…Yes."  
    "That was _seriously_ your idea of flirting?"  
    "Yes."  
    "Well, it's bad."  
    " _YOU'RE_ BAD!"  
    "YOU'RE THE WORST!"  
    "YOU'RE THE WORST TIMES TEN!"  
    "He _e_ e _e_ eey~" One of the journalists shouted stupidly over the noise, pointing suspiciously. "That doesn't sound like a reaaaaaal lovey-dovey relationship at all!"  
    "Yeah!" Another agreed. "That sounds like hate screaming."  
    "Lovey do-ers don't fight!"  
    Dib wanted to point out all the logical fallacies to that statement, beginning with the existence of lover's spats, but then that would imply he and Zim were having a lover's spat. And that just wasn't happening.  
    The journalists chattered among themselves unimpressed and headed to the door.  
    Dib panicked.  
    "NO! DON'T GO!" he yelled.  
    The crowd looked back. And Dib looked to Zim, fumbling to pick up the act.  
    "…Don't… give up!" He recovered. "I know the situation seems hopeless! _Me_ , going to boarding school, this engagement—being forced to take over Membrane Empires—And _you_ with your hideous skin disease that makes you appear suspiciously alien."  
    "Though I'm definitely not!" Zim interjected.  
    "Debatable! But… still! My hands are tied!"  
     _"Ugly worm,"_ Zim sneered under his breath.  
     _" You're ugly,"_ he hissed back.  
_"You're ugly!"_  
    "YOU'RE UGLY!" Dib shouted and mentally cursed himself. "—I mean… You're... so ugly… that… _that you're dying!_ And… **they** … are holding the cure hostage! I have to obey, Zim. I can't let you die by your own ugliness."  
    "But Dib!" he feigned, "I thought you wanted to be a doctor to cure me!"  
    Dib put on the most doleful, heart-wrenching face he could manage.  
    "—I did."  
    That's when the crowd started to sob.  
    Zim and Dib grinned.  
     _"It's working."_ Dib swallowed back discomfort, hesitating to clutch Zim's hands.  
    Zim grimaced.  
    "She may have my name Zim, but she'll never have my heart!"  
    "But Dib! If you leave, I may never see you again!"  
    "That's sad!"  
    "So sad!"  
    " _Really_ sad!" he said. "But the saddest part of all is: I never thought I'd fall in love."  
    "It is forbidden!"  
    "Yep. That's the situation!" Dib said. "That is the totally true, real situation happening right now."  
    "It sure is! Heart beats and affections and all that!"  
    "If only someone could stop all this badness!" Dib released his hands and searched past the shoulders of all the crying people, mentally mapping his way to the door. _"Eyes low,"_ he whispered where his ears should be. " _We're making a break for it. Keep up or don't."_  
    The crowd was going crazy, crying and taking pictures, scribbling and mumbling.  
    Zim didn't need to be told twice, ready to sprint at a second's notice. And Dib squared his shoulders beside him.  
    Their escape was in sight when their waitress appeared in front of them, knocking them both with her hips, her smile unnaturally wide and balancing a piping hot tray of food. "I have a camel's toez salad speciaal with potatoees and a leaaaf and…"  
    Zim flipped the tray upwards into the waitress's face. "NOW, DIB!"  
    "Let's—RUN!"  
    They took off like a shot, neck-and-neck, racing for the door.  
    The crowd closed in quick, the path growing narrower. People were shrieking. The drones hovered over chase, the main one nearly stopped Zim right in his tracks, but he dodged at Dib's jacket, pushing out through the bottle necked exit, and shoved through the door.  
    But their car wasn't there. It wasn't waiting this time at the end of the walk.  
    Dib grabbed Zim by the arm and yanked them both behind the cover of a nearby tree.  
    The crowd poured out into the street.  
    Zim watched the tripping, screeching absurdity.  
    "Madness," he groused. "Sheer madness!"  
    "We made it," Dib said disbelief. "…We actually survived that."  
    Zim ripped the bow tie off his neck and fixed his wig. "That was horrible!"  
    Dib checked his phone. "—The responses are already rolling in," he said. "Look."  
    Zim took the phone, watching the meaningless messages light up, one after another and Dib took it back.  
    "That should create enough scandal for the rest of the week, so we shouldn't have to do this for a while."  
    Zim gaped in horror. "There's going to be more?!"  
    "I said there'd be more!" He glared. "Like I said though, hopefully not for a while."  
    Zim frowned and he saw something from the corner of his eye.  
    Their car had arrived. And he knocked Dib in the arm to catch his notice.  
    They made sure the coast was clear before racing their way inside. And Dib relaxed at the warm finality of it.  
    It felt like they actually did something right.  
    But Zim still scowled, picking some sort of noodle off himself and flicked it away. He turned out the window to grouch into space.  
    Dib tilted his head. "Are you really that mad?"  
    Zim didn't answer.  
    "Oh, come on. We won! This is a victory. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I'll take you somewhere better next time."  
    Zim folded his arms tighter.  
     _Next time._ The problem _was_ next time! Invaders had no time for next times! And who knew when next time was going to be?!  
    He turned to him with a rekindled flair. "Mark my words, Dib! I'm going to destroy you extra hard tomorrow! Destruction TIMES TEN!"  
    "Yeah, that's fair," he said.  
    "AND THEN I'M GOING TO—Wait, really?"  
    Dib regarded him honestly. "After the day we've had, I think we both deserve a dose of normalcy."  
    Zim thought that over. "So… filthy evil or…?"  
    Dib nodded. "Yeah. Filthy evil."  
    The sun fell to a low comfortable twilight when the car finally pulled to a stop in front of Zim's house.  
    Dib rolled out of the window as he left. "So, I'll call you… or…?"  
    "I will contact you when my evil is evil enough," he stated simply.  
    Dib hesitated. "Well—okay. See you, I guess."  
    He rolled up his window, and that was all.  
    Zim plodded back into his house that night with all kinds of fresh ideas of annihilation in mind, and he immediately set to work.  
    After all, he had a lot to do to prepare for tomorrow.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all the comments. They mean a lot.


	8. Screaming Horror is Pink

_**Chapter 8: Screaming Horror is Pink** _

    "Sweet MOTHER OF ISAAC!"

    Dib woke up shocked breathless, stagger-panicked, rifling through his clothes and he hit the ground running.

    (Literately.)

    Zim wasn't lying when he said he'd contact him first. 34 missed calls. 167 text messages. And pulsating Richter Scale 5 earthquakes that sent him tumbling to the floor.

    He had no idea how he had slept through any of that, nor did he have the time to dwell on the matter. Hell hath no fury like Zim when he's ignored.

    "So much for normalcy," Dib muttered to himself. "…Has my life always been this messed up?"

    The question was answered by a horrible crash; and Zim arrived, sweeping Dib right off his feet.

    (Also, literately.)

    Zim had punched a hole through his house with a gundam mech suit and brushed him into a giant dustpan, no doubt to carry him off to some unspeakable horror of his design.

    " _Hello_ , Dib," he spat. "How does it feel to be sweepened like the pathetic dirt mite that you are?!"

    "It feels stupid," he answered.

    "YOU'RE LYING. And just for that, your doom will be extra sticky and gross. _And so very piiiink."_

    "…What?"

    Zim didn't answer, simply lifting the dustpan higher. Dib struggled to keep upright as Zim carried him off, stomping and laughing through the city streets.

    "What is it this time, Zim?! Mind reading gophers? Radioactive cheese spores? Lasers somehow made from refracted, concentrated dookie?!"

    Zim stopped. "Okay, that one didn't even make sense."

    There was an awkward silence and Zim continued. "NO. You will see soon enough! We're, eh, almost there." He took two more steps. " **BEHOLD!** The fate of you and your entire species!"

    Dib peeked over the side of the dustpan and found himself staring into what appeared to be the jaws of death.

    A maroon claw-trap of Irken steel, half the size of a house, sat on the ground, its maw open wide over a bladed fan.

    Dib's blood ran cold. This was a little more hardcore than what he had expected today.

    Gir waved up to him excitedly from beside it. "HI, MARY!"

    He found Minimoose as well, floating just beyond the side of his dustpan carrying a giant, _horrible_ ball of—

 _…_ Pink _?_

    Okay, now he was confused again.

    It wasn't shiny, or robotic-looking, or cool. It didn't have any other defining characteristics. Just a giant, ambiguous ball of pink.

    Zim preened. "You are terrified, no?"

    "I… don't even know what I'm looking at."

    "INSOLENT FOOL! **IT IS PINK!** "

    "No, I get that part, but like… what does it do?"

 **"BEHOLD!** ** _AGAIN!_** Minimoose! Release the pink! **"**

    Minimoose squeaked and obeyed, dropping the pink ball down into the waiting jaws of death.

    "HAWWWW HAHAHAHAHAAAA!"

    Zim grinned wickedly and pushed a button on his remote. The jaw clamped down, open and shut as if it were trying to chew.

    Dib cringed.

    "…Just give it a minute," Zim insisted. He procured a water bottle from inside his mech and poured a bit down onto his dastardly plan.

    Finally, the Pink seemed to soften. The chewing got easier, gooier.

    And it almost smelled like…

    "Is that… _bubblegum?_ " Dib asked.

    "Yes."

    "…Your screaming, sticky horror is bubblegum?"

    "I can see you are too _stupid_ to figure out what my plan is, so I will tell you. **_You see,_** **Dib, when that bubblegum reaches its true consistency, that fan will turn on, creating the biggest bubble your world has ever seen."** He paused turned backward. "You hear that, Gir? That's your job."

    "WOOO!" Gir cheered. "I METS ME A PIGEON!" He pointed proudly to the ground, where sure enough, he had befriended a rather ugly looking fowl.

 **"AND when it pops, it will cover your world IN** **PURE** **_STIIIIICKINESS_ ** **_!_ ** _**Smothering all humanity.** _ **The last thing they will see is** **_pink_ ** **_—_ ** _and they will be ripe for the conquering._ _**I** _ _**AM** _ _**ZIM** _ _**!** _ **"**

    He cackled. "And if you try to stop it—" Zim grabbed his remote and tilted the dustpan downward.

    Just enough for Dib to tumble. To hear his startled little yelp, watch the terror hit his eyes just right.

    The night's work was worth it for that alone. It was delicious.

    "You'll never get away with it, Zim!" Dib yelled. "And— _wait_ , won't you get stuck too?"

    "I'll be in the stratosphere by then." He grinned.

    "YOU'LL NEVER GET AWAY WITH IT, ZIM!"

    "HAAA! HAW HAW HAW HAWHA—! **_A-A-AUGH!_** "

    Zim was instantly blinded. Bright lights flooded his vision. The paparazzi had arrived in a mass horde, surrounding his mech, cameras flashing, babbling questions at psychotic speeds.

_~"Zim, is this a fundraiser to support your skin disease?! ~What is your view on Membrane Corp.'s tie with Cortex? ~ Is there a trust fund? ~What is the name of your skin disease? ~Have you heard about your offers from Cortex and DeLeech?"~_

    It was all so disorienting, he nearly lost his balance, gritting his teeth in rage.

    Dib was horrified. "Leave him alone!" He wobbled when Zim did, both of them teetering dangerously over the jaw. "He doesn't know anything! Stop!"

    Gir squeaked with delight and placed his new pigeon on his head so he could better pose for the cameras.

    And the questions continued.

 _~"Is this a theatrical performance? Where can we donate? ~_ One reporter shoved to the front of the crowd with a plastered grin. _~ "Tell us: what are your feelings on the matter?"_

 **"I WILL TEAR OUT YOUR INSIDES AND WEAR THEM AS A HAT!"** Zim screamed. "GWAH A-AAAGH!"

    "There you have it, folks!"

    Zim stumbled backwards too far, his mech leg caught in the chewing machine with a horrible _crank._

    Zim was thrown from his seat, tumbling down the mech's arm.

    Dib was hurled over side, clutching the edge of the pan for dear life.

    The crowd gasped. "NO, DIB! IT'S TOO SOON! YOU HAVE YOUR WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF YOU! Don't jump!"

    "Does it _look_ like I'm jumping?!" Dib yelled.

    Zim's eyes widened.

    The jaw was about to chew straight through the leg of his mech. If the whole thing fell, he and Dib would _both_ be crushed into chewing gum.

    He had to take control. And the remote was in the cockpit.

    Zim stumbled up the arm. The mech creaked forward.

    Dib yelped in terror, staring down into chomping teeth and bladed fans.

    "HEY!" The people cheered. "LET'S THROW WEENIES TO SHOW OUR SUPPORT!"

    "What?! No! Get out of here!" Dib wailed.

    But his yelling pointless, as hotdogs and weenies were already bouncing off his face.

    "What is _wrong_ with you people?!"

    Zim looked over at Dib dangling over the trap, the crowd of people, Gir posing like a human stripper.

  _Gir._

    "GIR!" Zim yelled. "HELP YOUR MASTER! HELP ME! Minimoose! Defensive mode! Get rid of the humans!"

    Minimoose squeaked and obeyed, its strange eyes shooting lasers into the crowd below.

    Pandemonium ensued. The humans began running and screaming, scattering every which way.

    Zim got back up and bolted up the arm, desperately throwing himself back into the cockpit. He seized the remote and tilted the mech back, just enough, so at least he would land safely if the mech fell.

    It didn't really help Dib much but, _eh_. Dib was filthy.

    "OKAYYYYY!" Gir yelled. "Do I push the button then?!"

    "NO, GIR! DO NOT PUSH THE BUTTON! I need you to bring the voot cruiser around!"

    The mech creaked back. And Dib's grip started to slip.

    Gir thought it over. "…I can't push the button…?"

    " ** _NO BUTTONS!_** WHATEVER YOU DO—"

    "Aww, _okayy_ ," Gir resigned and he squeaked off towards the direction of the voot cruiser.

    Zim sighed with relief.

    But moments later Gir came racing back. "THE BUTTON COMMANDS MEEEE!"

 **_"_ ** **_NoOoOoOOOOOO_ ** **_!"_ **

    So many things happened at once.

    The claw released the mech.

    Zim fell to the ground.

    Dib lost his grip on the dustpan, plummeting towards death.

    The fan's blades began to turn.

    Gir screamed as his pigeon flew away.

    Minimoose fried all.

    And as Dib screamed, free falling, waiting for his guts to be fine-diced to smithereens, everything stopped.

    He was no longer falling. In fact, he began ascending upwards, stuck to the top of a giant pink bubble.

    Zim marveled as his creation expanded, higher and higher, the Dib trapped to the side like a pathetic hood ornament.

    And then his senses kicked in.

    That was the bubble.

 _His_ bubble.

    The doom bubble of horrible stickiness!

    And it was growing quick.

    Zim shrieked in panic, bolting for the voot cruiser and he leapt inside, boosting out as fast as the ship could allow, racing against his creation.

    Gir hysterically wailed beside him. **"PIGEONNNNNNN!"**

    Zim tried to ignore him—but in the midst of his escape, it was due to that very pigeon-friend, flying clumsily between the voot and the bubble, that the misadventure was decided.

    No bubble could stand against the sharpness of pigeon beak.

   The explosion showed no mercy. It was so horrible, so sticky and gooey, no one was safe.  
   It was _everywhere, a_ ll over his voot cruiser, splattering pink and Dib and pigeon all over his windshield.

     _So much pink._

    Dib looked at Zim, and the engines jammed, sending the voot came barreling out of the sky, screaming all the way as they crashed.

    When the smoke had cleared, Dib was stuck to the side of the cruiser, thick in bubblegum, pigeon tangled in his hair.

    Zim had been thrown and skidded face first into the gum-coated concrete. And after fifteen minutes of no movement, Dib was pretty sure his face was stuck like that.

    Dib struggled with all his strength, kicking and wriggling until he finally pried his sticky self from the ship…

    …And landed on Zim's back.

    "…I hate you so much right now."


	9. Clash of the FanService Idiots

**_Chapter 9 : Clash of the [Fan Service] Idiots_ **

"GET OFF OF ME!"

"Oh, like I want to be here!"

The journey to Zim's house had been clumsy and unkind to say the least. Never had they been so ill of the other's company. They'd struggled for hours with the sticky mess, and while they had made plenty of progress in the matter, Zim's antennae was firmly glued both to his own wig, and, somehow, the side of Dib's face.

Struggling had left no avail. And Zim was pretty sure Dib's knee was stuck to the back of his, which was making it nearly impossible to walk.

Or fit inside the door.

"Go left! …Your _other_ left! **MOVE!** "

" _YOU_ MOVE!"

"GRrrrrah-A-A-AGH!" Zim flailed and shoved Dib away with all his strength, grimacing as the sticky strings of pink pulled them back together again.

It was a grueling amount of unchoreographed pulling and screaming to make it inside, complete with sideways toddling, and ricocheting Dib's head off the door frame.

"UGH! Quit slamming me into doors!" he wailed.

Zim ignored him. They had made it in, however painful.

"Computer! Take us down to the cleansing station at once!" he ordered.

The couch moved to reveal a wide hidden elevator, and Zim dragged them in, stumble-fighting, and slapping each other all the way.

By the time the elevator reopened, it had escalated to an all-out, sticky brawl.

"QUIT IT!" Dib shoved Zim's face, which somehow only served to make his own even stickier. _"_ Lizard!"

Zim exploded with rage. "Smelly dirt breath!"

"Ugly space toad!"

"STINKY PORK FACE!"

"SCUM WITH LEGS!"

"HAIR DEMON!"

"GREMLIN!"

Zim seized him by the collar in another poor attempt to throttle him, but all it did was send them staggering into painful, awkward circles.

They were both secretly so exhausted of today's fight. They had spent an unhealthy amount of time in the other's presence, yet neither were willing to give the other an edge, even when the doses of well-deserved suffering grew noticeably lazier.

Finally, Dib ripped his cheek from Zim's with a doubled shriek, staggering them both to the outside of the station.

"HrrrGH!" Zim's antennae still caught and pulled, but he found just enough mobility to turn the tables, pin Dib to the wall, stuck to his sticky, horrible forehead. **"ENOUGH OF YOU!"**

But they both had to pause the fight there, gasping to catch their breath.

"—Wow. We scream a lot," Zim huffed.

It was honestly a lot of work, fighting to the degree that they did.

"…You never stop screaming." Dib panted.

"....Hate you."

"Hate you more… HYAH!" Dib found his second wind and shoved off the wall, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

And Zim let out a blood curdling shriek.

"DIB! _Dib Dib Dib Dib Dib!_ " he whined, flailing and tapping out. " **HUUUURRRTS!** IT HURTS! **_THE PAAAAAIN~!_** SO MUCH PAINNN! _OFF_ , DIB! GET OFF!"

"What?!" Dib panicked.

Whatever it was, Zim was on the verge of tears.

**"AAAAAAUUUUUUUGHH!"**

It was his antenna. It had to be. Something in the pull was wrong, bent.

Not that he cared…

Just the screaming…

"Okay okay okay!" He leaned down to his face, tilting a bit to ease the pressure off, trying to hold him still in a way that would normally be much _much_ too close for comfort.

And Zim let out a whimper Dib thought was far too pathetic for the world's greatest threat to mankind.

"On the count of three, move forward and up," he ordered. "One—"

 _"AAAUUUUUGGGHHH!"_ Zim thrashed with a new wave of fear.

"WOULD YOU QUIT SCREAMING WHEN I'M THIS CLOSE TO YOU?!"

Zim was quiet.

"—Okay," Dib restarted. "One—"

_"AUUGGHHH!"_

He glared. " _Two_ —"

**_"AAAUUUUUGGGHHH!"_ **

"Seriously! I will rip your antenna clean off and not look back!" he yelled. "This position is weird, and I'd like to be done with it!"

Zim paused at that, and his eyes darted to Dib's lips, as though only now realizing the predicament they were in.

And Dib turned a soft shade of red.

Zim was quiet for a moment, then his face twitched to a grimace. "Okay," he agreed.

"Okay—One…"

Zim gripped his shoulders.

"Two—"

He started to scream but silenced himself. Dib hooked his arm under his PAK.

" _Three_."

And they moved. Slowly, Uneasily, but in time. And finally, they stood upright where a small silence existed.

Zim was the first to break it. He frowned, positioning his face so they were side by side again.

"The spigot!" He pointed. "It's over there. Let's be done with this horrible day."


	10. Inhuman Hospitality

**_Chapter 10: Inhuman Hospitality_ **

Dib followed, staggering at uneven steps. Zim's strange 'cleansing station' thing appeared to be a large purple-colored booth with several oblong shower heads on the inside.

Now he got nervous. "W-Wait, what if your weird cleaning fluid melts my skin off or something?"

 _"Victory for Zim!"_   He cranked the tap.

Dib tensed and shut his eyes, waiting for the terrible space acid to melt his organs, but once again he found no organ-melting.

What came out was a strange translucent liquid-gel. It was purple and a little tingly, but not in a bad way. It felt sort of nice.

Plus, they separated almost instantly.

Zim leapt back. "Finally."

"Good riddance," he agreed.

Zim immediately began to work rubbing the stickiness from his clothes and skin, and Dib hesitantly followed suit. He watched as the chewing gum they had been struggling with for hours dissolved before his very eyes, and his clothes didn't feel wet or heavy at all.

Zim tried to take his wig off, but it was proving rather difficult.

"Ow. _Ow ow ow ow ow_ HYIG! It hurts so bad~"

Dib could now see one of his antennae was unnaturally bent near the end... how Zim worked it delicately beneath the shower

He could imagine that probably _had_ hurt immensely. Dib didn't know too much about them, but he knew they weren't exactly fragile.

Zim cringed taking out his contacts. _"Hnngrah! It's in my eye sockets!"_

Eventually his attempts proved too difficult and Zim removed his entire eye, running it through the wash.

Dib watched in abject horror and fascination. He was honestly so used to Zim being Zim and trying to prove he was an alien, he sometimes forgot just how alien Zim truly was.

He could even see it hanging by the optic nerve. It was disgusting. And… honestly, pretty cool.

Zim stopped, noticing him staring. " _What_ ," he snarled.

"You can just take out your eye?"

"…Yes." Zim peeled the contact out with ease and fitted the eye back into his head, repeating it with the next.

Dib tried to look away long enough to avoid Zim's wrath or detection, but really, he couldn't help but watch.

Scientifically of course. Always of scientific interest.

The way the curious liquid spread and shrank over his skin and clothes before disappearing… The way Zim's fingers moved back gently over his eyes and the ends of his antennae…

It then occurred to him they were sort of showering together. Which was weird. They still had their clothes on, of course. But…

Still weird.

Then Zim glared at him, and he was annoyed again.

When the last bit of the pink stickiness dissolved from their clothes, Zim stepped out of the stream and smiled with relief, feeling happy and clean. "That's better. Now, next order of business~"

He seized Dib by the throat and choke-slammed him into the wall.

 _"What did you do?"_ he growled, his eyes radiating fury.

"W-Wha…?" Dib gasped, the sudden switch in his mood alarming.

"Don't you play stupid! My plan went flawlessly! You said those drones were placated, yet they came after me. _Not_ ** _you_** _. Not_ ** _us_** _._ **Me**. _Why?"_

Dib got nervous, trying to warble his voice innocent. "I-I don't know what you're—"

Zim unsheathed a PAK leg to his throat.

" _Nyah!_ Okay! Okay! I found out right before you picked me up! I-I was going to tell you—" He swallowed. "Just—put that away… please."

Zim thought it over and retracted the weapon, releasing the vice on his throat to turn of the faucet.  
But his eyes never left. " _What_ did you do?"

"It's… more like what _we_ did."

He studied him, not understanding.

Dib's voice tightened. " _Um_ … you didn't… just get mixed up in _my_ issues…"

Zim's eye twitched.

"Hear me out! Our brand name, _Membrane_ , it isn't the only big name in science. There are others: mostly competitors and companies we work with…"

"I don't care," he stated plainly.

"Well, there's this one in particular called Cortex—"

"I don't care who they are!" Zim snapped. "What do they want with me?"

"I'm trying to explain! Cortex and DeLeech both have a hand in medical science—"

"SO?!"

Dib hesitated. "…Remember we lied saying you're dying from a skin disease?"

Zim's blood ran cold. He let go of him.

"They want to come here… and talk to your parents. They're going to try to bring you to their labs and run all kinds of tests and experiments on you—to help you find a ' _cure'_."

Zim was silent, reeling in that information, but Dib knew him long enough to tell when he had turned a shade of pale.

"…Which obviously sucks for _you_." Dib crossed his arms. " _Everyone will finally know the truth."_

Zim didn't miss the lilt in his voice. "Save it. We both know if they find anything, your future falls in the gutter as well."

"Which is why we need to work together on this one."

Zim raised a brow. "And why would I need _your_ help? I can hack into your earth's databases and create a skin disease _easily_ , complete with false evidence on my own behalf. You're full of head garbage," he dismissed. "This is smeet's play."

"You don't know Cortex and DeLeech like I do," he reasoned. "They're persistent, aggressive _and_ calculating. They _will_ show up here."

"That's what my gnomes are for."

"That won't work this time—"

"Dib, I confess, my tolerance for your shrill little _Dib-noises_ have run their gamut. Remove yourself from my presence and BE GONE WITH YOU." Metal arms retracted from Zim's PAK and snaked around Dib, carrying him off to the elevator.

"Zim, listen to me! The reason we keep getting into trouble is because of _our_ lies! They've gotten out of control!"

His cries were ignored, and Dib pressed harder.

"My family is completely in the hot seat since our date. Cortex wants me in their favor. And… DeLeech is just—"

" **INTRUDER ALERT**." The computer's voice boomed across the room.

" _What?!_ _ **Who?!**_ " Zim threw Dib to the ground in rage.

A screen slid down from the ceiling. There was a man in Zim's living room, white coat and black slimy locks, who was being greeted by his robo-parents.

 _"DeLeech_ ," Dib answered uneasily.

" **Why** aren't my defenses working?!"

Dib's eyes narrowed on the man. Tall, shady, a camera lens where one of his eyes should be. He had found the camera in Zim's house and was studying it unnaturally close, his head cocked to the side.

"I thought Cortex would show up first! H-He didn't even send a representative!"

"DYAGH! H-How do we get rid of him?!"

Dib's mind was running a mile a minute. And only one solution was found.

**"…We lie some more."**

"I thought you said—!"

"I know what I said!" Dib started to pace and then he grabbed Zim by the arms. "Zim, listen to me. I can't believe I'm saying this but: _you are_ _ **not**_ _an alien_."

"…HmEh?"

He began talking a mile a minute. "You were adopted. Your real parents dabbled in strange technology, then they blew up and died. You and I have been secretly in love since the fourth grade because— _doh_ , how can I resist that face?" He cupped Zim's cheek.

Zim yanked back. "Don't touch me!"

Dib glared and slapped his hand.

" _Ow!_ " Zim squeaked.

"Your disease has never been seen before. Actually, _wait_ , maybe that's why your parents died—"

"Dib—"

"There isn't a cure. WAIT! _CRAP_ we said my dad had a cure! Oh, man…"

"DIB! Cease your panic vomit! Why are you—?"

"DeLeech is _bad,_ Zim! Those guys _invented_ the Crazy House for Boys! _I. Can't. Look. Crazy._ And **_you_** can't look like an alien. They will dissect you on sight and broadcast it on national television!"

Zim's eyes widened. He looked from Dib to the screen, the robo-parents greeting the man with their inhuman brand of welcoming.

~ _"Let me take your coat!"_   Robo-mom shrieked, taking a toilet plunger to the man's face.

 _~"Such hospitality!"_ the dad said. _"Have you seen our doorknobs?!"_

Zim only deliberated for a moment, and then he took Dib's hands. "Your father thought he had a cure, but he was wrong."

"He means well, but he just wants to protect the future of Membrane Empires."

"My parents are socially awkward because they're foreigners." Zim paused. "From Beyugashmorks."

"Fine, whatever!"

A terrible crashing noise came from above. And Zim panicked. "W-What other lies did we tell?!"

"Um, uh… let's see…" Dib counted, trying to unstring it. "I'm gay. You're not an alien… skin disease, dying, cure, heartbroken…"

"Doctor!" Zim prompted.

"I'm a paranormal investigator turned doctor!"

"What's my skin disease?"

"U-Unnamed… QRX Point Z."

"Sounds stupid. LET'S GO!"

/  
~

_A/N: …I may have lost control of this fanfic…. xD_


	11. Of Leeches and Liars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheer, unadulterated madness.

**Chapter 11: Of Leeches and Liars** (The Lies We Weave Are Oh So Intricate)

“Okay, follow my lead. Keep your lies minimal,” Dib ordered. “I’ll try to block him off and redirect him the best I can.”

Zim fitted the contacts back into his head and adjusted his wig into place. The base beyond the elevator blurred by in its Irken pinks and violets, Dib’s psychobabble melding with it.

“—So, try not to let his insults affect you. Oh, and if he touches you, make sure they stay no longer than seven seconds or he’ll learn too much. Scream if you have to, just—pretend your skin hurts or something.”

Zim heard him, but his mind was more set on the strange issues with his security system, and had wandered further after that, leaving Dib’s mind to venture off course as well.

 _‘I… am fearless. **Fearless Dib,** ’_ he told himself. _‘I just have to keep it straight, get this over with, **and then** I will have porkchops for dinner!’_

 _‘…Why haven’t I started using that head as a storage unit?!’_ Zim wondered. But there was little time to linger on any of these things as the elevator telltale slowed to housing level.

Dib’s eyes hardened and he righted his shoulders. “Above all else: show no fear.”

“HA! _Fear.”_ He sneered. “The _mighty Irken_ race doesn’t know the _meaning_ of—”

The elevator opened and just like that, Zim’s words curdled on his tongue.

His house was now the stage to a horror scene.

The TV fizzled without its channels. Minimoose was lying on the floor.

Every surface of his home was covered in leeches.

They were everywhere. Thick, slimy, bloodsucking things, stretching and pulling over every wall and wire, feasting on Minimoose’s insides…

Even Gir smiled from the couch with the terrible parasites burrowed into his face, each one squirming in the sick TV glow.

“It tickles… _and_ hurts!” he informed. And then he went slack, just like Minimoose, the light gone from his eyes.

Zim backed into the elevator and with hardly a fight, his hand found Dib’s.

No words were necessary. However their _true_ feelings for one another, for now, they were partners. Ill devised, but a unit.

Dib deadpanned and released his fingers. **“Dr. DeLeech!”**

His yell snapped Zim from his horrified trance. And the leeches were gone.

Dib wasted no time, sweeping ahead to the kitchen, moving with a cold-cut grace almost unnatural of him. And Zim didn’t like it.

It only punctuated the sick-bellied spookiness of it all, but he quickly found his wits. He had to. The robo-parents were introducing their uninvited guest to his sink.

 _ **“If ya want, we can let the garbage disposal massage your face!”**_ Robo-mom shrieked and with a twisted grin, cranked it on to demonstrate.

“That _is_ true exfoliation, honey!” Robo-dad agreed.

“MOM! Dad!” Zim barked above noise.

The garbage disposal cut off, and all eyes turned on them.

Zim got a good look at him now—this _Leechy_ human.

He was indeed tall, and without a doubt, the greasiest human he’d ever seen. His white lab coat held funny stains that reeked of old formaldehyde, and grungy dreadlocks that clung tight to his skull.

But the most unsettling thing of all was, while one of his eyes was all squinty closed, the other was gone and replaced with a camera altogether.

It made Zim want to reapply cleansing paste to himself. Repeatedly. But now was not the time.

 **“Why, if it isn’t Membrane Experiment 436-B.”** The man’s loupe lens fixed on Dib, turning over a corporate smile.

“You know my name is Dib.”

“Hm, yes.” He sniffed. “You were less mouthy in a Petri dish.”

Dib glared.

“And you must be Zim.” “Yes, I am the Dib-pig’s love unit!” Zim yelled on the offense. “ **—Such romance.** Such _deep_ , _**torrid feelings I have!**_ Now get out of my house.”

Dib raised an eyebrow at that one.

 _‘Torrid?’ Really?_ What, was Zim’s research based off the back-cover reviews of trashy smut novels from the eighties?

He deadpanned at the thought.

_Never mind. Of course it was._

Robo-dad’s circuits sparked at Zim’s words. “Now, son. Is that any way to talk to our guest?!”

“We taught you manners young man!” Robo-mom scorned. “And he came all this way looking for you.”

“Thaaat’s right!” Robo-dad rubbed his chin. “I think you should _shake hands and make up!”_

Zim stared up at the grimy human. He remembered the Dib’s previous warning. Something about letting the leech creature touch him.

“No, that’s okay.” He backed away.

“Come on, it’ll be fuuuuuun!” Robo-mom pressed.

“DON’T… worry about anything,” Dib intervened. “Zim and I will have a _nice time._ Why don’t you sit out in the living room? I’ll… make you some tea,” he tried.

The robo-parents both paused, processing the request.

“Well, isn’t that nice!” she remarked.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Sport!” Robo-dad said. And with that, the two rickety-wheeled their out to the living room, sparks flying behind them.

And all pretenses dropped.

“What are you doing here, DeLeech?” Dib demanded.

 _“…Testy, aren’t we?”_ the man sneered a fake kindness as he treaded the floor. “I assure you, I bring no ill intent. I simply wished to introduce myself, offer any needed assistance and be on my wayyy~ You’re like a _nephew_ to me, Dip.”

“ _Dib_ ,” he corrected. “Look, I don’t know what your angle is, but that doesn’t give you the right to come here and harass my boyfriend. He’s very sick.”

“Yes! I AM SICK!” Zim agreed. “ _And ugly!_ You torment meee.”

“Don’t torment him,” Dib said.

“Please leave now.”

 _“Oh, but that’s why I’m visiting~”_ he insisted.

“Enough visits!” Zim barked. “I need rest! And primitive _sick juice_ for the queasy. Leave it under my mailbox. My dog will get it. _Now begone._ ”

Dr. DeLeech’s camera-eye turned a strange clockwise. And suddenly he was right in front of Zim, looming over like some strange phantom vulture.

“You have _very nice skin,”_ he remarked.

Zim leapt away. “HeUH?! T-Thank you! It’s very—"

Dr. DeLeech snatched Zim up by the face without another word, his wide metal-pronged hand dangling him high above the floor.

And that’s when Zim felt them.

The leeches. They were there, traveling along the doctor’s claw hand, wriggling across his face and into his flesh.

Zim thrashed in terror. **“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!”**

 **“DeLeech, drop him!”** Dib ordered.

Dr. DeLeech paused, mulling the order over, and suddenly the leeches receded, crawling up his lab coat sleeve with tiny screams until they found home, nursing from the man’s scalp.

Zim shrieked upon freedom, scrambling over the kitchen chair to hide behind Dib, still watching the things slurp at the man’s disgusting head.

It was so gross—so horrifyingly horrible—yet he couldn’t look away…

And then Dr. DeLeech opened his one blank eye with a hum. _“How interesting.”_

Zim shook with fear, his breath catching in little hyperventilating sputters.

One of the leeches fell to the floor. When it thrashed around with its tiny screams, Dr. DeLeech squashed it underfoot, effectively smearing its life across the kitchen floor.

“I will be brief,” he went on. “My company, Mal Medical, deals in scientific TECH. I am a business man first and scientist second.”

Zim didn’t hear any of it, terror still mounting in his frame.

“Membrane is the biggest name in science and, quite frankly, I would like to know where it—”

**“DO NOT FEAST ON MY FACE BLOOD, SUSPICIOUS SLIME WEASEL!!!”**

Dib paused and grinned awkwardly. “…Could you give us a minute?”

He grabbed Zim by the arm and pulled him out of the room, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Okay, I know you’re freaked out, but I _really_ need you to pull yourself together.”

“The leeches. _My faaaace._ **Ssssquirming** all over my incredible face! Slurped to death and drained of its delicious _life fluids!”_

Dib raised an eyebrow and peeked out to the kitchen where Dr. DeLeech had resumed his idle snooping, particularly fascinated with the more alien features of Zim’s kitchen.

“H-He’s some sort of… _leech demon!”_ he fretted.

 **“Yeah,”** Dib stated. “Obviously.”

 

Zim glared. “Isn’t it your job to catch these para-floral things?!”

“Para _normal._ And DeLeech has too much corporate power!” he exclaimed. “His team is the one that _deemed_ me crazy in the first place! And all because _one time_ I tried to expose him with a tape recorder tied to a hamster. The point is, we have our objective. You want him out of your house. I want him… not… annoying me. Are you with me or not?”

Zim glanced out to the main room. “…What do you propose we do?”

-

 _“Sorry for the wait.”_ Dib strolled into the room with a sugary fake smile, taking his seat across from Dr. DeLeech. “Now, where were we? You know, it’s such a _lovely day._ I’ve been wondering how _you’ve_ been!”

Dr. DeLeech scowled for a long moment and then he smiled. “Well, isn’t that nice! It’s been… _complicated_ , actually—”

While he launched into his story, Zim pulled a remote control from behind his back and set to work.

 ** _The plan_** was that Dib would stall while _he_ caused some sort of commotion to lure the grease man outside. Lucky for him, he still had that nuclear-powered “shaking machine” he’d planned on using on that girly ranger ages ago. He had scaled it down and added it as an accessory to the house. Perfect for making a loud stomping!

It was _supposed_ to be a used to crush Dib into paste, but Dib never held still long enough for a proper squishening.

Zim’s mind wandered a little… imagining Dib in paste form…

It… wasn’t the _first_ time he’d entertained such fantasies concerning the Dib, really. He’d look great in paste form…

_Ah, well._

Zim shook the thought from his head and pushed the button.

But there was no stomping.

“HmM?!” Zim glared at the remote and pushed it again.

And again. And again and again and again…

None of the buttons were working! His Computer wasn’t responding to any of his commands at all! Not only that, the buttons were kind of… gooey. _And_ sticky.

Zim growled in frustration. He’d have to run a diagnostic!

_**“And what is your skin disease, Zim~?”** _

Zim glanced up from his remote. The DeLeech monster was staring at him.

He quickly hid the remote away. “Unnamed QRX Point Z,” he recited grimly. “As far as I know, I’m the only one who has it~”

“Come,” Dr. DeLeech insisted gesturing darkly to the chair in front of him. _“Sit.”_

Zim locked eyes with Dib. There was no doubt he was just as confused as to where the distraction was, but it couldn’t be helped. They couldn’t afford to look any more suspicious. Also, the leech man scared him--so Zim reluctantly took the seat beside Dib, boots squeaking every step.

 _“Now,”_ Dr. DeLeech said. _“Tell me more.”_

That camera eye zeroed in close and Zim sat straighter in his seat.

Dib could tell he was scared. “It’s a _terrible_ … autoimmune… slash skin disease,” he prompted.

 _“Yes! Yes, it is!_ Sooooo very horrible,” Zim agreed, checking the remote beneath the table. “Eh, it’s a wonder I have so much _ **—MUCUS?!”**_

He froze, realizing he had screamed that last part.

“A… side effect of my skin disease!” he covered. _“Yes! **LOAAAADS**_ of mucus! It hardly ever stops! Please, don’t let my mucus interrupt. It is verrry normal~”

He bolted from his seat, running to read the report and was horrified by what he found.

 _Leech goo?!_ In the Computer’s circuits?! Oh, that was just _disgusting!_

 _Now_ what was he going to do? His henchmen were out of order… His computer was down… And the robo-parents…

Zim scowled at the thought.

No. They were _guaranteed_ to make things worse. He growled in a fit of frustration, mashing the buttons for any response at all.

And unfortunately he got his wish.

Suddenly his giant Doom-monger Death Drill dropped down from the ceiling, whirring dangerously close to the back of DeLeech’s head.

Dib pounded the table, clearing his throat over the noise. “HUhhH! DeLeech! _What amazing_ new… _stuff_ … has your team been inventing lately?!”

Zim scrambled with the controls until the drill finally folded away, leaving DeLeech to stare at the wires above.

“If you are wondering about the ceiling, my _first_ parents were scientists!” he lied. “They gave _everything_ they could to find a cure and then exploded into _a billion tiny chunks~”_

“He’s adopted,” Dib said.

“Now all I have is my dog, my parents and my **supreme undying life-tolerance for Dib—** who is just— _so_ supportive of my endeavors.”

Dib forced a smile. “…What can I say? He’s my angel.”

“I _am_ an angel,” Zim agreed.

Just as he said that, the Spinny-Saw of Serrated Suffering sprang from the wall.

Zim rushed quick to shut it off, but there was no hiding it this time.

“Those are just my tools for, um, gardening!” he covered, shoving it back into the wall. “Boy, do I sure love gardening!”

“That’s… right!” Dib said. “But… I have a feeling Zim isn’t _feeling so well….”_

That camera eye turned in suspicion. “…What do you harvest this time of year?”

“…Cheeseburgers.”

 **“HA! HA HA!”** Dib put a tight, warning arm around Zim’s shoulders. “That’s Zim! Such a sweet, satirical sense of humor! Isn’t… that right… honey?”

Zim squirmed under his touch with poorly concealed revulsion. **“Oh-ho ho, _Dib~”_** He vice-gripped the offending hand, leaning into his ear. _“Touch me again and I’ll use your hide as a doormat.”_

“HERE IS MY PROBLEM.” Dr. DeLeech dropped his clawed fist to the table with a terrible _thunk_ , making them jolt in their seats. “Your father’s medical archives contain a record of every human in existence. I designed them myself. _ **THEY ARE PERFECT!** _ Yet there is not one record of any human by the name ‘Zim’.” He leaned in. **“Why is that?”**

Dread creeped to Dib’s stomach. “Um… well… you see…”

“Thaaat’s not my birth name~” Zim waved. “It’s… _something else!_ I’ve… always been _known_ as Zim, but my real name is eh… BILLY! _Yes_. Billy McHuman!”

Dib held his breath as Dr. DeLeech ran a check for the name on a small floating screen.

And a single result appeared.

Apparently, there was a real Billy McHuman. It looked _nothing_ like Zim, but…

Zim smiled. “Mhm. That’s what I looked like before the skin disease.”

“Fascinating…”

“Yyyyep! All the rumors are true!” Dib rushed out of his seat. “That’s Billy McHuman, I’m with Zim and I’m turning down everything with Membrane Empires! So if that answers all of your questions—”

“Actually, it answers _none of them,”_ Dr. DeLeech’s strange claw snagged along the table’s surface.

“You are seriously _ruining_ my table,” Zim pointed out.

“ _If_ what you are saying is true," he continued, "then taking over your father’s company would only benefit you. Turning it down would be downright _**IN-SAAAANE~”**_

That drove a certain kind of fear into Dib. People called him insane on a daily basis, but no one said it like Dr. DeLeech. To him, it was an echo of every time he’d been dragged to the Crazy House for Boys.

They kept him in a padded room! And went on about how his head was so big! And the worst part was they took his socks! He couldn’t do that again.

“But he’s not insane!” Zim chimed. “He… simply wants to prove himself by his own merit!” He nodded at the lie. “Yes. He has used ALL of his father’s resources, but it just… isn’t enough~” He clutched his chest sadly. “…My only wish now is that Dib follows his dreams~”

 _“You’re supposed to be distracting,_ ” Dib hissed.

“Oh, yeah.” Zim threw himself over the table into a dramatic swoon, leaving Dib to suppress another oncoming headache.

This was just _so stupid!_

Why were they even doing any of this?! And then something occurred to him.

“Wait a minute, why bother Zim with all this? You could have just asked my dad.”

Dr. DeLeech paused at that, and then a grimy smirk spread across his features.

“ _Well_ , since you’re so ill informed...” He rose to his feet, rounding his chair. “As of yesterday morning, my company has been fully endorsed **by Cortex.”**

Dib froze in his seat.

Dr. DeLeech smiled. “The madam sends her regards.”

“…Is… that right…?”

Zim peeked an eye open from his swooning to see the color drained from Dib’s face.

“Mm.” Dr. DeLeech procured an envelope from his breast pocket and pushed it into Dib’s hands. “To quote,” he continued:

_"‘If you need assistance outside your **overcompensating windbag** of a father and need someone  competent concerning the boyfriend, any rivalry will assuredly be set aside for the betterment of health and science. This offer extends both to Dib himself and especially Gazlene’.”_

Dib read the letter over and blinked in surprise. “Huh. _‘Overcompensating windbag.’_ That’s pretty nice of her.”

“I know, right? I was surprised too,” DeLeech remarked.

_**“I   saw   a   cheeseburger   once~”** _

Dib and Zim’s eyes widened at the voice.

Gir was suddenly in the room, leaning into Dr. DeLeech munching some bacon with a very matter-of-fact look on his face.

His very undisguised, robot-looking face.

“GIR!” Zim yelled. “I thought you were broken!”

Gir thought it over and shrugged. “I got better.”

Dr. DeLeech leaned in scrutinizing the robot up close. “What in the world is this?!”

Dib panicked, leaping from his seat. “Nothing!”

“Everything is normal!” Zim scrambled over, completely abandoning his previous fainting ploy.

“He’s just… an artificial intelligence robot,” Dib explained, “that… _I_ made… to help Zim.”

“No you didn’t~” Gir said.

“ _Yes!_ Yes, he did!” Zim proclaimed loudly, hiding Gir behind his back. “His name is… _Antoine!_ And he’s _stupid!”_

“VERY stupid,” Dib insisted.

Gir toddled out from behind Zim’s back, staring at Dr. DeLeech. The man quirked his strange eye down at the robot.

“ _Hmmmmm_ , he does look stupid,” he admitted.

Gir cocked his head at Dr. DeLeech, then he smiled. “I like you~” His tongue lolled out from his mouth and he immediately began stroking the man’s face with the last piece of bacon.

“I made him as a companion for when I’m away~” Dib put on the most heartfelt face he could manage. “So Zim is… never alone~”

“Yes! Boy, do I love him... _And_ Dib.” Zim forced a large, soured smile.

Really, he was reaching his limit.

“I thought Dib was bad and greasy~” Gir said.

 _“Well, you are wrong.”_ Zim gritted his teeth. “I—" He cringed, trying not to be sick with his next words. “I luh—” He gagged and let out a whine.

Dib swallowed. “Yeah, he loves me.”

Zim nearly wretched but swallowed it down with an upset nod.

 **“Awwwww~ Did ya hear that, honey?!”** Robo-mom shrieked from the doorway. **“Our little Zimmy-kins is in love~”**

“Oh sweet Tallest no.”

But it was no use. Both the robo-parents had wheeled back in to Zim and Dib’s hapless horror.

“Well, I just had no idea~” Robo-dad said wistfully.“Our son is growing up.”

“And he’s so handsome~”

Zim held his head in his hands.

 _Tallest_ , why would this day’s horrors not end??!

“Mom, Dad. Don’t do this. Please. I beg of you.”

 **“Smiiiiile~”** Robo-mom cooed.

The room flashing as she snapped a picture, tilting her comically obnoxious camera for the optimum shot.

Gir wiped a happy tear from his eye.

Dib regretted not throwing himself into that claw machine when he’d had the chance.

After a few more pride-obliterating pictures, Robo-mom wedged by Gir and Dr. DeLeech for a better close up. **“Now, let’s see a kiss~”**

“THAT’S ENOUGH!!” Zim yelled, smacking the camera out of their hands, turning his burnt fuse on them all. “YOU get out of my house. YOU get in my closet. AND YOU,” he turned on Dib. “If I didn’t need you to get out of this I swear I would staple your face to a garbage truck. COMPUTER, remove his head!”

The computer didn’t respond.

“COMPUTER!” he repeated. “UGH! Why must I do everything--?”

He reached into his PAK, punching buttons into his remote.

“Hey, no way!” Dib launched over to snatch it from his hands.

Zim snarled as Dib kicked him in the head, knocking his wig and contacts askew. Soon it was an all-out brawl, leaping, grabbing, shoving, mashing buttons all the way.

The toaster popped out of the wall.

The can opener popped out of the toilet.

A panel in the wall started shooting Gir’s secret collection of rubber ducks.

“What is going on here?!” Dr. DeLeech demanded as another squeaking duck pelted him in the face.

But Zim and Dib hardly heard.

Dib landed a kick to Zim's head, crushing the remote beneath him, turning the garbage disposal on.

The robo parents delighted in the noise.

 **“Let me help you~”** Robo-mom grinned to Dr. DeLeech, picking him up high over her head, carrying him out to the sink.

“Hey! Put me down!” Dr. DeLeech wailed.

“FOOL!” Zim snarled in Dib’s face. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT TOO!!"

“ME?! What about YOU?!”

 _“DUCK TOAST!!!!”_ Gir shrieked.

Neither noticed the actions of the Robo-parents or Dr. DeLeech. By the time they had, it was too late.

 **“You’re going to feel like a new man~”** Robo-mom shrieked.

There was no stopping it. By the time Dib was on his feet, the Robo-parents violently stuffed Dr. DeLeech screaming into the sink, face-first into the garbage disposal.

Dib tried to scream, but he couldn’t. They just kept on pushing.

They pushed until the screaming stopped, and there was no trace of the man but his shoes.

The remote sparked out and the room was quiet, the gruesome scene finally subdued.

Zim was the first to speak. “…Huh. Didn’t think he’d fit in there.”

Another silence followed.

...

“ _Well_ , that takes care of that!” Zim spun around with a satisfied flair, removing the rest of his disguise.

“No, it doesn’t!” Dib wailed.

“Why not? I’m sure he’ll end up in the city’s cess pool. He’ll be fiiiiiiiine. Or he won’t.”

“Zim that’s—people will come looking for him…”

He cocked his head. “I haven’t seen him, have you?”

Dib was speechless.

 _“New rule_ : if it can’t be solved with extortion or throwing it down the drain, do not bother me.”

“You’re insane!” Dib yelled.

“I’m _effective,”_ he corrected. “Now _**shoo**_. I refuse to look at you anymore. Really. I think it’s giving me a hate rash.”

“You know what?! Gladly!” Dib stomped out and slammed the door behind him.

Zim turned around on the damage.

Everything was a mess.

There was burnt toast and ducks on the floor. The kitchen smelled like gore and burnt rubber for some reason…

…Oh. Gir was roasting a rubber ducky over the toaster again.

Suddenly the house shook as the shaking machine ignited its mechanical stomping.

“Oh, _now_ it works!” Zim frowned at it all and spun on his heel. “Come on Gir, we’re going to fix the computer.”

Gir paused and toddled after, dragging his snack behind him. “…I’ve got a rubber ducky on a stick!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your comments seriously boosted my confidence and spirit, guys. I appreciate it more than you know.  
> Trying to send this chapter through was way more rocket science than it should have been too XD Sorry guys <3


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